The False Winter
by Furious Winter
Summary: Set five years after Gendry and Arya are separated, Westeros is no longer in chaos. The winter has proven to be mild and the new ruler seated upon the iron throne seeks to restore the King's Peace. Most of all, the people just want to return to the lives they remembered before the chaos. For most that is not so easy. Slightly AU regarding mostly minor details. Rated M for gore.
1. Chapter 1, Gendry

He was one and twenty, or thereabouts. With never knowing his father, and his mother dying while he was still a young child, he had never been entirely certain of his nameday. He swirled the mead in the bottom of his mug before taking another swig, reclined with a sigh. It tasted the same as ever, bland but strong. There were very few patrons in the Inn at the Crossroads this evening. A bard and a rough looking fellow talked in hushed tones in the far corner. A loud and obnoxious knight, or so he claimed, sat at the bar regaling Willow with his stories of valor. She seemed to be doing her best to entertain him, giving weak smiles at appropriate moments, but the look on her face betrayed her as she laughed hollowly from time to time. She stole a glance over to Gendry and he smiled sympathetically. She reciprocated it briefly and then returned her attention to the oaf.

His life had not been horrible here. Since the end of the war and the disbandment of the Brotherhood he'd offered his services as a blacksmith to the inn. Willow was most appreciative, always ensuring he had all his basic needs tended to; food, drink, shelter, clothes on his back. She'd on more than one occasion offered to warm his bed, but he had respectfully declined. She was very pretty, however he had no intentions of fathering a bastard. Every time he had explained that to her, and every time she had reminded him of the other things they might do that would yield no children. Still he refused, stubborn as ever. She never held it against him, though, and he was grateful for that.

No, he didn't have very much to complain of, looking back on his life and how much worse things could have been. Despite his reasoning, he couldn't help but feel restless. This was not the life that he wanted. Granted, he didn't have any idea what kind of life he _did_ want. Perhaps once he might have hoped for love, for family, for glory, or something more than he dared dream of now. But he had no control of the dreams that came to him in his sleep. He dreamt of a dark-haired, grey-eyed girl, and how her laugh, even in their most unfortunate situations would lighten his mood. She had been the only true friend he'd ever had, both of them young and naïve and careless as they could be. He often wondered what she might look like now that she would be older, if she was the same fiery spirit he remembered or if the years had tamed her.

But she was gone. Sandor Clegane, the Hound, had stolen off with her one stormy night, and he had never seen her again. He had never been able to make his peace with her. He knew that he'd hurt her by joining the Brotherhood, that she'd felt he meant to leave her. Nothing was further from the truth. He'd hoped to protect her better, and perhaps someday to be someone worthy of her… He immediately dismissed the thought as he had countless times.

Even if he was a knight, she was still a highborn lady, a princess to boot. Even if she had grown up and found some way to love him the way he felt he might have grown to love her, there was no possibility she could ever wed a lowborn bastard even if he was a knight.

Willow seemed to sense that he'd drained his mug and came to refill it. "How fares my knight this evening?" she asked, her voice swelling with kindness. "You look very tired."

"Just relaxing is all. Don't have much to be tired for now the war is done." He lifted the mug to his lips and drained a third of it. "And how are you, m'lady?" He grinned cheekily.

"As well as I could be, I s'pose." She laughed whenever he called her m'lady, never getting angry or calling him stupid as he half hoped she would every time he called her that. She tossed her hair back as she always did and took the seat opposite him, smiling warmly and looking into his eyes enticingly. The routine nearly made him ill. "I wonder what I might ever do if some night you didn't sit here looking so gloomy in the corner all by yourself. I do wish you'd cheer up." She gently placed her hand on his in a caring manner.

Gendry chuckled, "And what might you do?" He returned her stare as he always would. He knew it tormented her when he looked at her like that. Perhaps he was wholly to blame for her advances. It was only a game to him, but he would never let this game truly hurt her. As long as he never took things any further than stares and nicknames there would be no real harm done, he told himself. "Sometimes I wonder as well."

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and winked before standing up. "One of these nights you'll grow tired of that hard, cold bed in your smithy. And my featherbed is so cold as well, but much more inviting. And all the better that you'd have someone to share it with." She looked at him half expectantly, half already defeated.

He took another swig from his mug, glanced away for a moment, thinking, and then softly replied with his half-smile, "No featherbed for me." She topped off his mug, curtsied, and returned to her vexatious patron at the bar. Gendry furrowed his brow, wondering what might be wrong with him that he continually turned away such a pretty girl while so many other men would jump at the chance to bed her. Bastards be damned, it would be no problem of his if he got her with child. No, he thought to himself._ There are surely worse things than being bastard-born, but it is not something I would ever wish upon anyone._

With that final thought he drained the remainder of his drink, rose, and trudged off to the smithy. Perhaps this evening he would dream of her. Or better yet, perhaps he'd wake up to find that these past five years had been a dream. She would be there next to him when he woke as she had been so many mornings before, calling him stupid and hitting him when he'd call her "m'lady". He'd hear her laugh, listen to her complain about stupid this, stupid that. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He smiled to himself as he lay down, his bed comfortable still despite its lack of feathers. He needed no featherbed. He needed no titles, no lands, no wealth, nothing everyone else seemed to desire.

All he desired was to have her by him once more, just to hear her voice as she ridiculed him or jested or asked him to snuggle closer as they lay in the cold by a dying fire. He closed his eyes and pictured her, dirty hair in tangles, stained tunic, torn breeches. And those wide gray eyes, full of fire and life. The bull missed his wolf more than anything, and it was all he could do to hope that maybe someday he'd see her again, and tell her how sorry he was for failing her. He was sorry. And stupid._ Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ He could hear her saying as he drifted off to sleep, smiling.


	2. Chapter 2, Daenerys

_**A/N: Okay, so obviously I own none of this. Nada. We all know who the props go to. :P Thanks to all who are reading. With any luck, this won't be horrible once it's finished. While writing I think of a dozen things to say up here but when it comes time to upload I can't remember any of it. I will say this... things will get very dirty and smutty eventually. But you're gonna have to wait. ;) M rating someday... Not today. **_

_**Update, 03/17/13: A big thanks to tsevca for pointing out some of the flaws with the canon! I've addressed as many as possible without having to rewrite the whole story. :P THANKS!**_

_If only ruling Westeros were as simple as claiming it._ Dany frowned as she sat with the members of her small council. Ser Barristan Selmy, wise and loyal, set down the parchment he'd been reading over. He let out a small sigh as he leaned back in his chair. The people of Westeros had taken to her well enough, in awe of the might of her dragons. There was no doubt they feared her, though she had given them little reason to aside from the presence of her fearsome children. The only children she was ever like to have.

"Your Grace, I wouldn't fret over the dissent in Casterly Rock and Lannisport." Tyrion, Master of Coin once again, quietly tapped his goblet on the table as he spoke. "Though I must say when you confiscated the vast majority of the Rock's gold you didn't earn many loyalists. It'd be like taking all the whores in Westeros and sending them away from me. I'd be much too frightened of you to actually _do _anything about it, but I'd curse you to the depths of the Seven Hells until I used up all the breath my stunted lungs would afford me."

Dany laughed aloud. The imp was nothing if not endearing with his humor and self-deprecation. Jaime added, "That's true, but at least you still have your right hand." The siblings laughed together.

She smiled and continued, adopting a more serious tone. "It seems it is not enough that I have forgiven those who would swear fealty to me. And it is not only the unrest in the Rock and Lannisport that may be of concern. Storm's End still wishes to see a Baratheon in power."

"You certainly did not win any allies by executing Edric Storm. Baratheon loyalists find it hard to swallow that a handful of Lannisters survive and now all the Baratheons are dead. After all, a Lannister sat the throne when you claimed it." Barristan sat resolute, serious as the day he was knighted.

"A Baratheon sat the throne when my house lost it. I could not allow him to live." Dany spat. The thought of Edric Storm still threatened to wake the dragon within her. He had been brought to her to swear fealty and she had been told he intended to. To his credit, he did at first. But then his pride took hold of him and the fool proclaimed that if his father still sat the throne she would have never had a chance of taking it from him. True, he was young but her anger got the best of her. He was dead within minutes. Robert Baratheon, the Usurper, deserved his spot in the Seven Hells more than any other in Dany's mind. "Perhaps his pride will be a lesson to those who would dare dispute my right to the throne."

Jaime softly intervened, "My brother and I will always be thankful that you allowed my son to abdicate the throne as opposed to the alternative. Though unfortunately, that has been viewed by many as a sign of weakness. Let me reassure you though that no Lannister will be rising against you. My brother and I are not much for battles these days, Myrcella is much too kind-hearted, and Tommen adores you. He's also much happier in Casterly Rock." Jaime and Cersei's incest was one of those things the people of Westeros seemed to want swept under the rug. The realm was aware of the truth, but few seemed to want to believe it. Despite their parentage, Myrcella and Tommen were very well liked if only because they contrasted so much from their mother and brother.

Dany appreciated the reassurance. And she did not doubt it. "So what am I to do with Storm's End seeking a Baratheon heir when there is none to give?" She looked to each of the faces about the small council. "I do not think it likely they would forgive me for erasing their beloved house anytime soon."

"No, it is not likely." Varys spoke for the first time. Her Master of Whispers, Dany did not trust him. From what she had learned since taking the throne, he was very, very seldom trusted. His whispers were often priceless, however, and since his return from hiatus he had shown to be most valuable. "Though Storm's End has been somewhat sated since you placed Margaery Tyrell there. They do not love her like they loved Renly, but they favorably view her alleged affairs while married to Tommen." His powdered hands stayed peculiarly clasped.

"And the North is very quiet as well. With Sansa Stark in the Vale, Bran Stark back in Winterfell, Rickon Stark seated at the Twins, Theon Greyjoy in the Iron Isles… It's almost like Robb Stark's legacy as King in the North lives on. If you had a Stark to place in Riverrun their joy would chase the winds of winter so far north Old Town would freeze over. " Tyrion smiled at Dany with that ravaged face of his. Looks were most definitely deceiving.

"No, Your Grace, you truly worry yourself. You have done as much as possible to restore the King's Peace. Or in your case, the Queen's." Jaime smirked. "And you know, you could always have the Rock and Lannisport in your pocket if you were to wed a Lannister." He would never let it go.

Dany blushed despite herself. "Ser Jaime, you are a dashing man made from the dreams of little girls throughout the realm. But you know my feelings on this. I will not wed again. I cannot have children. When the time comes I will choose a successor. I am the last Targaryen and with any luck my gift to Westeros will be an eternal summer." Upon her intial return to Westeros she had vanquished the Others. Afterwards, much of the realm quickly called for her to be crowned Queen. It seemed she had saved them all. She'd won the realm without killing a single man in battle.

Tommen abdicated without so much as a fuss, the Starks rallied behind her, feuled by their devotion to their deceased cousin, Jon Snow, who was equally Stark and Targaryen. It was only when it came time to pledge fealty that blood began to be spilt. The Freys were the first to be eradicated.

"And the Rock may hate you for taking its gold, but in doing so you've begun rebuilding the rest of the realm. With Tommen there it is not entirely lost. You sacrificed the Rock's pride to give pride back to the rest of the realm. The people are no longer starving. They are no longer struggling. Yes, there are dissidents, still there is nothing you could do to win everyone's favor." Barristan finished resolutely. His words would always mean the most. She knew that above all those that served her, he was the most honest, the most forthright, the most courageous. He would tell her the truth of the matter no matter how it might anger her. And these words did not anger her in the least.

"If I may, your Grace, I do have one suggestion." Dany quivered as the Spider spoke. He smiled wickedly. "As it were, there is one last Baratheon, or so my birds tell me. Edric Storm was not the last of the…" he paused as if to catch himself from misspeaking, "_Usurper's_ bastards."

Tyrion looked both puzzled and intrigued. He spoke with skepticism, "And why haven't you come forth with this information before now?"

"I cannot speak with all of my birds at once, my Lord. I only have two ears. And one nose." He giggled.

"Who? And where?" Dany demanded. She was in no mood for his quips.

"His name is Gendry. He works as a blacksmith at an inn, the Inn at the Crossroads if I recall." He began turning his hands furiously and his tone turned insincerely somber. "But there is one small complication." His hands slowed. "It seems someone wants him dead." No one spoke, their silence requesting an answer. "Sadly I cannot say who wishes him dead or for what reason, though it may be anyone's guess. What is fascinating is who intends to kill him."


	3. Chapter 3, Arya

_**A/N: Thanks again to all who are reading and following. I'll do my best not to disappoint. I don't know how frequently I'll be able to update in the coming weeks, but I should at the very least get a few more chapters in before the second season releases on dvd. I make no promises after that as I'll probaby end up watching it more than a few times. Thanks again. :)**_

She traced her fingers across the soft, delicate features of the face she had been given. She despised the beautiful faces. When she wore them men would ogle her, sometimes grab her and make rude comments. It happened frequently enough when the face she wore was her own and Izembaro knew how she hated it. She thought perhaps he had given her this one to make her task all the more difficult. The less comely faces had more often than not made it easier to give her gifts. No one paid her any mind when she was ugly. She much preferred it that way.

She sat in near darkness, listening to the groans and gasps of the wood as the trading galley rocked with the angry ocean waves. Winter had come and with it, the winter storms that terrified sailors and sank ships like they were made of stone. But this winter was unlike all the ones before it, people were saying. It seemed the days had gotten colder, the nights longer, but they had not continued to do so. Not after the Dragon Queen crossed the Narrow Sea and drove the Others back into their icy tombs. Some claimed an eternal summer was upon them. She did not care. It made no difference to her.

The lantern flickered dimly from its place hanging in the center of the room, rocking to and fro, casting queer shadows about the cramped cabin. She loved the shadows. She was safe within them. Just the sight of them gave her comfort and she sank further into her bed, considering once again what she had been tasked with doing. _He has to know. He has to know what I dream of._ It was the only explanation for why she'd been sent off. Izembaro must have heard her talking in her sleep. She must have said _something _that would let him know.

Though she couldn't remember the last time she'd dreamt of _him_. Even now, it was difficult to picture what he looked like, what anyone she knew in her past life looked like, the life of a dead girl. _Nymeria. _The name crept out her memory before she could stop it. She balled her fist, fuming that she couldn't take complete control of her thoughts even after all these years. Those dreams, it seemed, would not stop. When she would have them, she would do everything she could to will herself out of them, to no avail. She had begun to suspect that perhaps it wasn't she who was connecting with the direwolf, but the direwolf that was connecting with her.

It had even begun happening while she was still awake. She would be sharpening a blade or breaking bread, and suddenly it was as if something had taken control of her body away from her. She would freeze, motionless, thoughtless, until whatever it was lost its grip on her. It would only last for a moment, and then she was her own again. As much of her own as she could be.

The bed was warm and comfortable despite the small bit of straw beneath her. She sank deeper into it, turning on her side. Beneath her pillow she felt her blade, the blade given to a dead girl by a dead bastard. For a time she had struggled with whether or not to keep it, but the news of Ned Stark's bastard being slain had made it easier to rationalize keeping it. And then she learned that he wasn't truly a bastard at all. He was kin to the Dragon Queen, a cousin to the dead girl, not a brother at all. And she was convinced that it no longer held any significance to who she had been. Much like her, it no longer had a name. _I am No One, and this is No One's sword. Nothing more. _

The galley began to rock violently and she could hear the screaming winds and powerful thunder of the raging storm. She had been warned that storms were to be expected and knew what that could mean. It did not matter to her. She did not fear death. _I fear nothing_, she assured herself, knowing it was a lie. She feared her dreams and that cursed direwolf invading her mind. Struggling with her fatigue, she closed her eyes, knowing she could not fight sleep forever. No man could. The howling wind reminded her of so many things, and she thought it might be better if she just went to sleep. She sighed, clutching No One's sword, and relaxed.

_She was feasting. She and her pack had felled the buck easily as they always did, and this one was fat. She tore free a few last tufts of flesh before backing away, sated. It was her siblings' turn. They moved forward to dine as she sat off to the side, licking her lips, savoring the sweet taste of blood. She sat and listened to the gentle breeze moving through the treetops, the distant howl of another pack somewhere far away, and then there it was._

_ The sound of men. Her siblings did not seem to notice, devouring their meal, so she quietly trotted off towards the sound. From atop a rock shielded by bushes and trees she gazed down to the path that men frequented. There were only two men, both mounted on white mares with white cloaks and armor. They were moving quickly, their horses galloping side-by-side. As she kept her gaze, she realized the man closest to her was not a man at all, but a woman. She watched as they moved past and then on down the path into the distance, never noticing her from her hidden perch._

_ She licked her lips again, content that the danger had passed, and returned to her pack. They were still feasting. She curled up at the edge of the clearing and lay watching her siblings. Each one loved her, she knew, if only because she ensured they were rarely hungry. They growled and snapped at one another as they cleaned the carcass, leaving nothing to waste. Soon they would be on the move again, to where, she wasn't sure. Instinct told her, compelled her to keep moving. She gazed up to the sky and saw the moon peeking through the clouds, golden in the soft twilight. She threw back her head, howling, and off in the distance she heard her replies. _

_ They would be traveling again soon, and her pack would follow her wherever she went. She gave a soft whimper as she lay her head down. Soon she would abandon her beloved siblings. They were not truly her siblings anyway. But they were her fearsome pack. Yes, she must leave them. She felt it. Not now, but very soon._


	4. Chapter 4, Brienne

_**A/N: I haven't proof-read this chapter. I'm pressed for time. I -may- post another chapter this evening. We will see. I hope this story is as enjoyable to read as it is to write it. Thank you so much to all who are reading it.**_

Glancing over towards Loras, she noticed him grimacing. His hand briefly traveled from the reins up to his side, and then quickly back to his reins again. She knew he must be in pain. Giving him a signal, she slowed her horse to a trot. "We should rest the horses." She gave no indication that it might be him that needed rest. Although they still were not entirely fond of one another she respected the valiant knight and did not want to wound his pride by suggesting his weakness. "We have ridden them hard since dawn and I can tell mine is weary. It would not do to lose them." He nodded in approval.

They found a spot for camp just off the road by a stream. In the distance she heard the howling of wolves, but she knew they would not be a bother. There was food aplenty in the wood. The winter had all but dwindled. The white ravens in the citadel had died suddenly soon after Queen Daenerys put a stop to the Others. The maesters were claiming she'd stopped the winter as well. As much as Brienne feared to believe it, the days had begun to grow longer. The nights were not as cold. Mayhaps the winter truly was over before it had even started.

"It is your turn to gather wood, my lady." Loras seated himself on a log, staring at the ground with a hand at his side. "I will tend to the horses." He made no indication of moving any time soon but Brienne did not argue.

If the wound he had suffered in the war gave him any trouble during battle, he did not show it. He was as fierce a warrior as he'd ever been and Brienne preferred no one else to train with. She still managed to best him most times, but he never made it easy for her. "I will return shortly, Ser." With that, she made her way towards the wood.

They had made good time. Stopping only to water and feed the horses, she was exhausted if truth be told. Little sleep and constant riding had taken its toll on her and she was certain Loras wasn't feeling much better. Her heart raced when she thought of their quest, however. When the Queen had called her and Loras to the throne she at first thought it was for some menial task.

But no, the Queen was sending her two best of the Queensguard, she'd said, to retrieve Ser Gendry Waters, Robert Baratheon's last known living bastard. She planned to legitimize him. Brienne knew the man she spoke of. When she'd first seen him her breath caught in her throat as she gazed upon King Renly's ghost. They were to bring him to King's Landing, but that was not all of what the Queen had asked them.

His life was in danger. A Faceless Man from across the Narrow Sea was coming to take his life. They were to ensure his safety as they brought him to the Queen. Varys, the Queen's Master of Whispers, had giggled as he informed them of _who _exactly was being sent to kill the bastard. Brienne's heart had nearly stopped when he divulged that not only was Arya Stark still alive, but she was now a Faceless Man. Their instructions were to prevent Gendry's assassination and also capture the wayward wolf.

Queen Daenerys wanted her alive. That was made quite clear. For what purposes, Brienne did not know. She would not fail this time. She would not allow herself to fail Queen Daenerys as she had failed the late Lady Catelyn. She had been humbled beyond words when the Queen not only made her a part of her Queensguard, but knighted her as well. She was now Ser Lady Brienne. The awkward title still made her smile. There were many who'd told her she was the Queen's favorite. She did not smile at that thought. It weighed on her that, should it be true, she might someday fail her Queen as she'd failed Lady Catelyn.

She would not fail her Queen in this task. Likely on the morrow, she and Ser Loras would reach the inn and Ser Gendry before the lost wolf girl. They would stay there a fortnight, waiting on the girl to arrive, and then capture her. But no longer than a fortnight. That was the Queen's order. If the Stark girl did not make an attempt while they were there, they would bring the bastard to be legitimized. It was not even certain that the girl would survive the trip across the narrow sea and the Queen had matters of the King's Peace to attend to.

She collected a few last bits of wood and turned back towards the camp. Ser Loras was no longer seated, to her surprise. He had watered and fed the horses and was now brushing them. He gave no hint of discomfort. He turned towards her and spoke. "You are sure that you'll recognize the boy?"

"He is no boy." She began to arrange the wood for a fire. "And he looks so much like Renly you won't have any doubts either." After starting the fire she looked up to him, picking dirt from the horses hooves. He looked sad at the mention of Renly. He always did.

"I'll believe it when I see it. I beg your pardon, but a wench's word has never meant much to me." His face remained hardened for a moment, then lightened as he turned toward her. "Even a wench as honest as yourself." He smirked.

She loathed when he would call her that. She loathed that he was so much like Jaime in his words and his arrogance. He'd only needed to overhear Jaime calling her "wench" once to adopt the nickname for her. When Jaime said it she no longer cared, she knew that it was a term of endearment from him. Loras said it just to offend her, or so she felt. She wondered to herself why beauty seemed so often squandered on rude persons, though rudeness did seem a trait possessed by many despite their appearance.

"You will be certain as much as I. He may be young but he has Renly's look more than Edric ever did. He is as tall as I am and well-muscled. It is his eyes and his hair, though, that betray his lineage." She blew on the fire and it flowered into life.

"And you're confident you can identify the Stark girl as well?" Loras lowered the mare's leg and walked back to his seat on the log. "I am told she looks little like her sister."

"That I am not so sure of, but I don't imagine there will be many girls trying to take his life. Most like they will be trying to warm his bed."

Loras smiled at that. "If he truly looks so much like Renly, I cannot blame them for that." It was no secret to her that Loras had loved the late King Renly. She almost pitied him for his loss, but it was her loss as much as his. Renly was the only man who had not viewed her as ugly and repulsive with her coarse, short hair, pale blue eyes and disproportionate face. He had acknowledged her strength and prowess, the only virtues she felt she had aside from her honor, and made her proud despite her aesthetic shortcomings.

"On the morrow you shall see for yourself. Our Queen may find disappointment in his poor speech and manner due to his low birth, but she will not be disappointed to share her bed with him. At the least, he will make a very handsome king." She unpacked her bedroll beside the fire. Loras was taking first watch and she needed all the rest she could have for the coming days.


	5. Chapter 5, Daenerys

_**A/N: I really hope that I'm not boring the crap out of all of you. I promise things will get interesting. This may not be an incredibly gripping chapter but I felt it necessary. Hope you like. Thank you all!**_

_**Update 03/17/13: Thanks again to tsevca for pointing out issues with the canon! Chapter has been amended appropriately.**_

Though she did not often indulge herself with wine, tonight was an exception. She was nervous and nothing seemed to quell her thoughts. She drained her cup and wiped the bit that dribbled down her chin with the back of her nightgown sleeve.

"You're giving me a run for my gold, Your Grace." Tyrion laughed as he sat drinking with Dany in her chamber. "Be careful, if you keep this up you will be most sorry for it in the morning. And I'd hate to see what a drunken dragon is like. If they can destroy whole cities sober I dare not imagine what one might do in a drunken rage."

"You needn't worry, Tyrion." Dany placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. She loved the imp as much as she could. He made for very entertaining company and was wise like few others. "If I were to find myself in a rage I would most like mistake you for a child. And I would never harm a child." She smiled warmly and refilled both their cups.

Tyrion laughed. "That would be one of the few times I wouldn't mind being mistaken for a child. Now, mother, if you don't mind, I am feeling rather hungry. I've had my fill of wine, don't you think it's time I'm fed my milk?" He grinned widely at her and glanced to her breasts.

She laughed so hard she spat out a mouthful of wine and shoved his shoulder. Tyrion and his brother Jaime had quickly taken to her. From any others she may have had their tongues for speaking to her as they did, but she knew it was only in their nature. She also admired their bravery for the things they often said to her. And they always made her laugh. Laughter was something she'd come to miss in the years before she claimed her throne.

A knock at the door arrested their attention. "Enter." Dany commanded. To her dismay, the Spider peered around the door.

"Your Grace," He bowed. "I do beg your pardon at this late hour." He looked between her and Tyrion with cruel interest. "Have I disturbed you? Should I take my leave?" His hands fidgeted.

"No, you have not disturbed me. What is it, Varys?" She collected herself and looked at him with an expectant air of scrutiny.

"I have received word that the young wolf has landed in Westeros. She should be headed towards our dear bastard as we speak. Given Ser Loras and Ser Lady Brienne's time of departure, they should intercept the boy long before our wayward wolf reaches him." He gave a pleased whimper and closed the door behind him.

"Good." Dany placed her cup on the table and rose, smoothing her nightgown as she spoke. "I do not mean to doubt your knowledge, but you are sure he is a bastard of Robert's? There is no doubt? I will be most displeased if he is not accepted as an heir. Storm's End _must _accept that he is Robert's. Otherwise it will not do any good to wed him."

Varys smiled as he spoke. "I am most certain, Your Grace. Even Ser Lady Brienne was sure of it, if you recall. Any who lay eyes on him would not doubt that he is Robert's."

Tyrion leaned forward, "Your Grace, you do not _have _to wed him as it is. You certainly do not want it, that much is evident. Simply find him a fertile wife who can run a castle and place him in Storm's End. If you fear an uprising, that will certainly quell it."

Dany would not hear it. "No, it is not just a rebellion that I fear. I would have the people love me. I have finally taken what is mine and I do not intend to be hated for it."

"But you are loved by most, my sweet Queen. Many would love to see a Baratheon in the Red Keep once again, and very few would hate you for that. Though you mustn't become disillusioned by the wants of the people. You have tended to their needs more than the Lannisters ever cared to. If you do not wish to take a husband no one will dare force you to. _Certainly _not a bastard-born blacksmith. And what when the people learn that he is awkward in court? That he is so poorly spoken? It is not even known that he can read and write. What when the people learn that their king is only a title and not a ruler? Would that appease them?" For once, Varys looked genuinely concerned.

Dany sank back into her chair and picked up her cup once again. She stared into it, knowing her counsel was right. "I will not decide this very evening. While it is true taking him as my king may have its drawbacks, it will most like be seen as a gesture of good will. That is how I would have it, at least. He cannot be wholly stupid. He can be taught to read and write and speak with dignity. If not, he will be seen and not heard. Any who think I am weak have surely not seen what I am capable of and I will crush them if they dare question my judgment." She could feel her dragon stirring within her.

"Your Grace, let us put this issue aside. The boy will be safe with your Queensguard. That much is sure. And you still have not named your Hand. With myself Master of Coin and my brother Captain of the Queensguard that leaves an obvious choice amongst those in your council." This was not the first time Tyrion had offered Ser Barristan's name as Hand of the Queen.

"Ser Barristan is loyal, that is true. I do not feel I can place such a burden on him, though. He is old, though wise, and I have put him through so much already. I do not know if I have it in my heart to burden him more." She felt tears threatening and batted them away.

"The good Ser would be most honored at the title. He has no desire to return to the Queensguard after Joffrey's dismissal and it is well known how fond he is of you. He may no longer be bound by the vows of the Queensguard but they live on within him. He wishes nothing more than to serve and protect you to the end of his days." Varys slowly rubbed his powdered hands, still looking sincere.

Dany sighed. "Very well." She turned to Tyrion. "If you are certain that this is not only a good move for me, but good for Ser Barristan and most of all the realm, I will name him Hand." She paused and glanced between them both. "You are aware that he first suggested I marry this bastard of Robert's?"

Varys giggled. "Yes, Your Grace. We were there, if you recall." His hands returned to their typical dance. "And if that is what you wish I will be most happy to bring him the news at once."

"Yes, tell him." Dany sat back in her chair. Varys bowed and left. She stared into her cup a moment more before taking a long swallow.

"Dany, I do not see how you could ever fathom that someone might hate you." Tyrion cooed in his way. "You are so beautiful and so damned terrifying all at once. How is it that you are of any relation to your late brother?"

"We were borne out of the same womb, and that is all. He was no dragon. Fire cannot kill a dragon."


	6. Chapter 6, Loras

_**A/N: Thank you, thank you again to all of you. Your comments and words of encouragement are egging me on. :) I hope this chapter is as fun to read as it was for me to write it... giddy as a schoolgirl. :P Enjoy!**_

_**Update 03/17/13: Thanks once again to tsevca for pointing out fuck-ups! Chapter amended.**_

It was two hours before dusk when they arrived at the inn. He and Brienne dismounted, led their horses to the stable, tethered them, and walked toward the entrance. Before entering, Brienne stopped Loras. "Remember, he is not to know of the Queen's plans nor his parentage. And certainly not of the Stark girl's intentions.

Loras grimaced. "Truly, you feel it necessary to remind me of this? I do not have a wench's mouth."

"If Renly were here I'm certain he would disagree." Brienne turned and pulled open the door. Loras would have replied to that, but a pang shot up his side. He gasped silently.

Upon entering, the girl at the bar turned, saw them, and dropped the mug she was holding. Her eyes were wide at the sight of them, obviously terrified, but she spoke nonetheless. "W-welcome, my lord and lady. May I help you?" It was not likely an everyday occurrence for two knights so finely dressed to grace her humble establishment, much less two knights of the Queensguard.

"Yes, you may." Brienne spoke first. "We require rooms and a meal."

"Very well." The girl's face lightened. "It will be an honor, my lady."

"That's _ser _lady." Loras corrected with a smirk. They crossed over to the bar but did not seat themselves. "I am Ser Loras Tyrell. This beauty," he gestured towards Brienne, "is Ser Lady Brienne. We are knights of Queen Daenerys's Queensguard."

"Very nice to meet you both." She nodded to them in turn, wide-eyed. "My name is Willow." Brienne smiled to her. Loras remained stoic.

"We are not only seeking shelter. We have been sent to retrieve a man, Ser Gendry Waters. We are told he lives here. Her Grace requires his presence in King's Landing." Brienne spoke with kindness in her voice, no doubt to keep the wench's apparent fears at bay.

Willow looked flustered. "Why, yes. He is here, though I don't know where he is at the moment. I shall fetch him for you but it may take a while for me to find him. Shall I get you a drink while you wait?"

"We will ask the questions." The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. Cursing himself, he saw Brienne glaring at him darkly out the corner of his eye.

"Yes, my dear. That would be splendid. Thank you." Brienne smiled at the wench as warmly as he'd ever seen.

They seated themselves. Willow hurriedly brought them mugs and filled them with the "finest wine north of King's Landing" as she called it. She then scurried out the door. The wine was nothing if not sour, but Loras knew better than to complain. They sat in silence a moment before Brienne began to chastise him for treating the wench so coolly.

"Her Grace would not have the smallfolk fear us." She droned on. "There is no reason to speak with such reckless lack of care." He focused on his wine and nodded appropriately. His side was still bothering him if truth be told. He didn't intend to be so curt when it flared up but the pain was often more than he could ignore. The wound he'd suffered had been most serious, a spear straight through his ribcage. How it had missed his left lung the maesters did not know, but it had festered for a time. Many nights he lay in agony as they treated him with boiling wine, leeches, dreamwine and milk of the poppy. Despite the maesters' reservations he had lived, though he had been warned his side would trouble him for the rest of his days.

When Brienne was finally finished with her nagging, they sat in silence. Near half an hour passed and Loras had begun to wonder if the wench would ever return when they heard the door open and footsteps behind them. Loras turned and nearly fell out of his chair. "Renly's ghost" did not do the boy justice. Though he was not as tall nor muscled as Brienne had led him to expect, his black, shaggy hair and stubbly beard made his ocean-blue eyes pop out like sapphires set in dragonglass. He looked so much like Renly, though clearly stronger. His tunic seemed strained as his biceps and pectoral muscles bulged beneath them, and with one look at his breeches his torso was clearly not the only thing of his that bulged. Yes, he most definitely was no boy. "Seven Hells…" was all that Loras could muster.

Brienne saved him from his daze. "Ser Gendry, it is nice to see you again."

"M'lady Brienne." Gendry nodded to her. "I'm pleasantly surpised." If he was truly pleasantly surprised, he did not look it.

Loras did not have the breath to correct him. Gendry's eyes traveled to him and he felt himself melt into his chair beneath his gaze. He knew he should introduce himself but found he was unable to speak. After a short but awkward silence, Brienne came to his rescue once again.

With a crude smile, she gestured toward Loras. "This is Ser Loras Tyrell, often called the Knight of Flowers. And Silence as it would seem at the moment." She added. Loras shot her a look of death. "Forgive him, we have been traveling hard."

Gendry nodded to Ser Loras with a forced smile. "Ser Loras. 'Sgood to meet you." Loras found himself melting once again. Gendry's voice was sinewy and sweet to his ears. Still, he could not find his voice. He only nodded and smiled weakly.

"Let us have a seat together, ser." Brienne rose and crossed to the nearest table, pulling out a chair. Gendry followed suit and Loras realized that he should probably do the same. Willow eyed the three of them queerly and went to fetch a mug for Gendry, also grabbing a flagon of wine to refill their mugs.

"Willow tells me I'm wanted in King's Landing. Have I done something t'anger Her Grace?" Thankfully, Gendry directed the question to Brienne.

"No, ser. Do not worry. You are not in any trouble."

"Forgive me, m'lady. This is not the first time royalty has sought me out. The last time I feared for my life. I don't understand what any highborns could want with an armourer's 'prentice."

"Your fears are unwarranted. You are not in any danger." Brienne lied well. "Her Grace's intentions are not for us to say, but I assure you she has no ill will towards you."

Gendry seemed pleased with the response, though not wholly convinced. Loras finally found he was capable of speech again. "You say this is not the first time a regent has sought you out?"

Loras managed to keep from melting this time as Gendry looked to him and spoke. "When I was a young lad I was sent by my master to take the black. On our journey north the Gold Cloaks attempted to take me. It was not long after King Robert's death. While still in King's Landing, the Hands John Arryn and Ned Stark both came to see me. I've never understood why I'm of such interest to highborns."

Loras managed to smile at Gendry. "You will understand soon enough, ser. As the good ser lady has said, it is not our place to say what makes you so interesting. You will come with us to King's Landing and Her Grace will answer all of your questions, I'm sure."

Willow piped up from behind the bar. "I beg your pardons, but will Gendry be coming back? Do you mean to take him for good?" The wench looked mortified at the thought.

Brienne turned to her. "It is not likely that he will return soon, no. But I promise you, my dear, we will ensure he is well cared for." She gave the wench the most reassuring smile she was likely able to muster, but it did little good.

Tears began to fall from the wench's eyes. "Excuse me." She choked as she turned to run into the kitchen.

Looking back to Gendry, Loras could see the girl's reaction troubled him. "I'm all Willow has aside from her aging father. She will not like to see me go." He glanced down to his mug in thought.

"She will learn to accept it. We will stay here a fortnight and leave after. Our horses need to recover from the journey here." Brienne took a swallow of wine and looked to Loras. "When the girl returns would see that you pay her for our rooms and meals? I will tend to the horses." Loras nodded as she drained her mug and left for the door.

It was only he and Renly's ghost now. They sat without speaking for a bit, Loras landing his eyes anywhere but on Gendry, when the bastard finally broke the peace.

"Ser, I have heard of your accomplishments in tourney and in battle. How did you ever come across the title 'the Knight of Flowers' anyway? It seems to me you would deserve a… a more intimidating title."

Loras laughed at that and, the ice broken, looked directly into Gendry's eyes as he proceeded to tell him about his place of birth, Highgarden, and his noble house. Loras was never more at ease than when he was talking about himself.


	7. Chapter 7, Arya

_**A/N: This chapter... has not gone as planned. After spending more than a few grueling hours slowly fishing it out, I've finished. It's late, I'm tired, I'm drunk, I have work in the morning. I've more than likely screwed it up, but I'll just have to wait until tomorrow to fix it, if then. As you know, season 2 is out and I probably won't post another chapter for at least a day or two. Sorry. For many reasons, this was difficult to write and I hope it doesn't read that way.**_

The voyage across the Narrow Sea had taken much longer than she'd hoped. When she'd finally reached port, she immediately stole the fastest looking stallion she could find in the hour she'd wasted there. This needed to be over and done with and the inn couldn't be far now. As she raced past the trees, the freshly plowed fields and the sparse peasant's homes she couldn't keep herself from remembering. The dead girl seemed unwilling to stay dead.

Everything about Westeros, the countryside with its familiar flora and fauna, the peasants and the way they spoke and dressed, just the _smell_ of it was proving to be as much as she could handle. She did her best to pay as little attention as possible to her surroundings though it went against all of her instincts to be so shut off from her environment.

_I will do this and it will be over. _She assured herself. Izembaro had given her this task for one purpose, she was sure. It was her last link to the dead girl, the last thing giving the girl any life at all. _Nymeria. _She shook the name from her head. _That will go as well. It must. If I have to track down the direwolf myself and slay her, if I have to kill every single person the dead girl knew, it will end._ She had no other choice.

Clearing her thoughts, she focused only on the road and before what seemed no longer than an hour she saw smoke in the distance. As she drew nearer the inn that she sought came into view. She slowed her horse and trotted up to the stable. An elderly man was feeding and watering the horses.

"What a beauty!_"_ He set aside his pale as she approached him.

She'd been in Westeros only a few days and already a hideous old man was lusting after her. She cursed Izembaro. "I would appreciate it if you would keep your thoughts and your eyes to yourself, beggar." She fumed as she dismounted and pulled her cloak over her bosom.

He reached a shaky hand up to pat her stallion. "Beggin' your pardons, m'lady, but I meant your horse." He looked at her with warm, weary eyes. "I'll be takin' this one for you if you mean t'stay the night. My daughter Willow will tend to your needs inside." He pointed toward the inn. "What's his name?" He took her stallion's reigns and began to lead him away, turning an ear to her.

"Nymeria." _Where in the Seven Hells did that come from? _Now, she cursed herself.

He raised what was left of an eyebrow. "An odd name for a stallion, but it'll do." He smiled and led Nymeria away.

She turned towards the inn, took a calming breath, and headed for the door. _No more mistakes. No more. _She pulled open the door and stepped inside to warmth and laughter. The room was half full with boisterous patrons. Some turned their heads to her as she entered, obviously captivated by her beauty. She had chosen to wear a loose-fitting dress, green with blue embroidery around the hem, cuffs and waist. No One's sword was hidden away in a secret fold on her right side. The low cut top was bordered with an intricate pattern of white and gold, exposing the top of her bosom. If she had to be beautiful it would not do to dress like a man as she preferred, for that drew more attention than beauty itself.

She crossed the room with an air of confidence, ignoring their stares and seating herself at the bar. The girl behind the counter handed a mug of ale to a patron and turned towards her. _What did the old man say her name was again? _It was not like her to be so forgetful. "How d'y'do, m'lady." Before she had a chance to respond to the girl she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"What brings a maid like you here so late this evening? I saw you ride up by yourself. It is not safe to travel alone." The fat man's breath stank of wine and he grinned with red and black teeth beneath his thick brown beard.

She knew how to handle him. Smiling, she began, "I do not-" her words were cut short as the man stumbled backwards revealing a giant of a woman, blond with pale blue eyes, dressed in shining armor.

"The lady does not wish to be bothered by the likes of you, I'm sure." The giantess drowned the fat man with a look of threatening promise, and he backed away, laughing nervously.

"If you want her you can have her." He gave the woman a clumsy bow and returned to his table.

The woman gently placed one of her large hands on her arm. "Perhaps you would like to join me and my friends at our table?" She gestured to the corner, and she saw him.

He had not completely filled out as she expected. He'd grown stubble on his face but it still remained youthful despite the five years since she'd last seen him. She looked up to his eyes and found he was looking towards her, as was the man seated beside him. She tore her gaze away from that blue abyss and replied to the giantess. "That will be fine." She managed to smile.

She crossed the room, following the woman. The giantess sat across from her target while she sat opposite a man she thought to be far prettier than any man had a right to be. He looked at her with a slight frown. His face was familiar to the dead girl, though she couldn't think where she might have seen it before. She was careful not to look at her target just yet as she had not found the courage. "Forgive the sap, we have watched him drink himself silly. He and his company have proven entertaining this evening. Are you headed to King's Landing for the tourney like the rest?" The giantess eyed her innocently enough.

"Yes." She lied confidently. "I am most excited, my lady." She was not aware of any tourney, but it made no matter.

At that, the beautiful man sputtered and emphatically asked the woman before introducing his companions, "Have you forgotten your courtesies again? The fair lady beside you is actually no lady at all. She is _Ser _Lady Brienne, Maid of Tarth. The dashing gentleman beside me is Ser Gendry Waters, a bastard of King's Landing." She looked to her target whose face was screwed up as he stared at his mug, thinking in his pained way, most like because he had just been reminded again of his low birth. Inwardly, she smiled. "And I," he continued with unabashed pride, "Ser Loras Tyrell, Knight of Flowers." He finished, confident with himself as if he expected her to gasp and laud him.

"Judging by your garb I would venture a guess that you are not just simple knights. You are members of the Kingsguard, are you not?" Arya did not falter from his gaze.

"Queensguard." Loras corrected. "May I ask, where are you from? I find it peculiar you are headed to the Queen's tourney yet you appear unaware of our Dragon on the throne."

"My apologies, ser." She was already growing weary of him, and noticed Brienne give him a dark look. "I have just traveled from Braavos, where I was raised."

"Ah, I could hear the Braavosi in your accent, but you have more Westorosi in your voice than I would expect." His eyes betrayed the innocence of his statement.

"My parents were traders from Westeros."

"And you are traveling without them?"

He was asking too many questions. "Yes. They died months ago when their ship sank during a winter storm." She grew somber. "After their passing, I grew tired of being surrounded by their memory. I've come to Westeros to find a new life for myself. Mayhaps a husband." She batted her eyelashes at him. "I've always dreamt of a white knight coming to save me. Perhaps I'll find him here." She forced herself to blush at him. She swore she heard Brienne chuckle at that, but when she looked to her face she was expressionless. "And what of the lot of you?" It was now her turn to ask the questions.

Loras offered her answer. "We have been sent by the Queen herself to escort Ser Gendry to the tourney. His valiance in battle during the war won her attention, and though we tried to keep the Queen's intentions a secret, our good fellows at the far table seem to have ruined the surprise and the good ser figured it out." He gave Gendry a slap on the back. Still, Gendry did not turn his attention from his mug.

"You should travel with us to King's Landing. We leave on the morrow." Brienne placed a heavy hand on her wrist. "Do you have a room just yet?"

"No, Ser Lady, the drunken man never left me the opportunity to ask." Brienne turned and beckoned the girl at the bar. She hurried over, nervous looking.

"What can I help you with?" The girl fidgeted her hands.

"Our friend here is in need of a room. Could you see to it to find her suitable quarters?"

The girl looked to Gendry, still fascinated by his mug, and then stammered, "I- I'm sorry, Ser Lady. It seems all our rooms are taken."

"Well, that should be no bother." Brienne looked to Arya and lightly squeezed her wrist. "Loras and Gendry would surely not mind sharing quarters for a night. You can stay with me and have Ser Loras' old bed. Gods know he's kept it clean as the day he found it. There is room enough for all." With a final squeeze of her wrist, Brienne released her. "Now, Willow, would mind bringing us a fresh round of drinks?"

"Right away, Ser Lady." With one last glance at Gendry, Willow rushed back to the bar.

Arya looked to Gendry. Her smile dissipated as she saw he was still deep in thought. _What could be troubling him? Does he suspect?..._ "Ser Gendry, you have not spoken a word since I joined your table."

Gendry did not look at her, only sighed and turned his gaze the wall. She thought his face might cave in from the strain of his thoughts.

Loras interjected, leaning forward as he spoke. "He is most troubled at leaving his lady love, Willow." Loras pouted. "She has confided that he is all she has, and he is not happy to leave her with her father."

She felt an unfamiliar stirring within her at the revelation. Suddenly she was fueled with a desire to reach across the table and slit his throat in front of his company, though it would surely mean the death of her. _Not today, _she relented. "That explains it. I had begun to think he was either mute or just _stupid._" To her surprise, she uttered that last word with more emphasis than she'd meant and without a hint of Braavosi accent.

Gendry turned to look at her quizzically, his eyes searching deep within in her for something, someone. _No one. _He finally spoke, the sound of his voice and his words sweeping over her in a cacophony of syllables. "What did you say your name was?"

She cleared her throat. "I didn't." Gathering all her confidence, she replied with a smile. "Cat. My name is Cat."


	8. Chapter 8, Gendry

_**A/N: It's not that I'm getting blocked or anything, it's just taking a bit longer for me to work out how things are happening in each chapter as I go along. Hope this is worth the wait. Let's hope that as I write more I'll get a bit quicker about it. :P**_

He was stirred from his sleep by the sound of his door bursting open. He rolled over and squinted at the commotion. Brienne crossed the room to Loras and he rose to meet her. They spoke in a hushed tone, but Gendry still overheard.

"We finally have her and you _fall asleep_ still dressed in your armor?" Loras shook his head.

Brienne was visibly furious. "I don't know how it happened. One moment I was wide awake watching her sleep and the next I knew I was pulling myself from the floor and she was gone. She must have… she must have done _something_ to-" He did not allow her to finish, silencing her with a wave of his hand.

"I will go ready the horses. We are to leave at once." With that he exited, leaving Brienne looking defeated. She crossed to his bed.

"Get up, ser. Gather your bags and say your goodbyes. It will not do to stay here any longer." Her tone was gentle despite her mood. As he collected his things she stood watch over him. This had become a common occurrence since the knights' arrival at the inn. Wherever he'd go, at least one of them would follow not far behind, his only moments alone being when he excused himself to use the privy. He'd even noticed that, throughout the night, they seemed to take turns standing guard outside the entrance to his smithy.

When he'd asked Brienne about the fuss, she'd only smiled and said that when one receives orders from the Queen, one is not wise to take them lightly. Willow appeared the most bothered by it, though. More than a few times she'd wanted to have a word alone with him but the knights would only turn their backs as if they were unable to hear what was being said so long as their eyes were turned elsewhere. _Is this what kings and queens endure? No wonder half the Targaryens went mad. Who would _ever _want to be king?_

It was still dark when he stepped outside, the crisp early morning air smelling of dew and mud. He and Brienne walked to the stables wordlessly to find Loras saddling their horses. Willow's father had given him his favorite stallion, Blue Spirit, and a pack horse for his journey to King's Landing. Gendry assured him that he would someday return them but the old man shook his head, hugging and thanking him for his service and protection. Although Gendry wasn't sure how much service he'd been as the man and his daughter had little use for weapons and armor, he had fended off bandits and thieves half a dozen times.

Loras began strapping bags to the pack horse and asked, "Have you bidden your love farewell just yet? We must take our leave before sunrise."

He replied, "No, ser. Would you mind staying here, Brienne? I'd like to speak with Willow alone." Brienne started to protest but Loras stopped her with his eyes. Resigned, she nodded.

Gendry made his way into the inn and up the stairs to Willow's quarters, dreading the encounter. Though he knew he did not love her, it didn't make him happy in the least to be leaving her. He'd even asked the knights if it might be possible to bring Willow with him. Confirming his suspicions, they asserted it was not acceptable. She was as much of a friend as he'd had since his wolf had been stolen from him. And though she might not be what he idealized for a potential wife, she had been much better company than he'd hoped for.

Arriving at her door, he didn't bother to knock and gently pushed the door open. Even in the dark he could see her beauty as she lay in her bed, wrapped in furs. Quietly, he crossed to her and knelt. He placed his hand on her head and whispered, "Willow, wake up." Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, and then fixated on his.

"I've always dreamed of waking up to your face. The gods are cruel to make that dream come true only to take you away from me." She took his hand in hers and sat up. "You are leaving me now?" He could see the tears forming in her eyes.

"Yes, but I promise you, Willow. I will see you again. I will compete in this tourney as it please the Queen and I will come back to you and your father." He kissed her forehead. At that, the tears began moving from her eyes to her cheeks. In that moment, he almost wished he'd taken her as his wife. Surely, the knights could not have forced him to leave her behind then. He suddenly felt guilty for rejecting her, for clinging to a past that had slipped away from him long ago. She was trembling, and he wrapped his arms around her. She returned the hug, and her strength surprised him.

She was sobbing now. "I will miss you, Ser Gendry Waters." Her nails dug into his back and she held him there for some time, crying.

"And I will miss you." He whispered. Her sobbing did not quiet and his heart was breaking. She had shown him only kindness and in return he'd been cold and distant. It was past time for him to let go of his dreams. His mind was made up. "Upon my return we shall be married, if you would have me." She stopped crying and pulled away to look him in his face, studying him. He had tears of his own now.

With an expression that made him feel stupid as ever, she spoke softly. "_Of course _I would have you, Gendry Waters." With half a laugh, she began to smile and cry all over again. She squeezed his hand. Before he knew what he was doing, he brought his other hand behind her head, leaned in, and kissed her. She let out a whimper. The kiss was short, but sweet. He looked into her eyes and she grinned before pulling him to her, pressing her lips back onto his.

She kissed him passionately, her mouth opening against his lips. He returned her kiss, wrestling her tongue with his. He found he was losing himself in her taste, her touch, her scent when he heard someone at the door clearing their throat. They quickly broke their embrace and looked to the door to find Loras leaning against the frame.

"I beg your pardons. I am heartbroken to interrupt but we must take our leave." He did not appear heartbroken.

Gendry placed his hands on her cheeks and wiped away a tear with his thumb. "G'bye, Willow."

"Goodbye, Gendry. Come back to me."

"I will." He kissed her forehead again as he rose and then left, Loras closing the door behind them perhaps a little too forcefully.

"You will not miss her long." Loras said as they descended the stairs.

"No. I will come back soon as the tourney is over." At that, Loras only smiled.

When they stepped back out into open air, Brienne was waiting with the horses. She and Loras seemed to constantly argue about one thing or another and this morning was not to be excluded. Gendry ignored them as he mounted Blue Spirit, and they were off. They rode at a moderate pace so as not to tire to the pack horse with Loras leading and Brienne in the rear, only stopping to make water. When they finally reached a spot Brienne deemed suitable for camp, Gendry felt as though he wouldn't be able to stand. It had been a long while since he'd ridden a horse and he'd not often ridden them before that.

Loras laughed at him when he dismounted, stumbling. "Have you been sneaking drinks? Brienne, how could you let him hog all the wine? I told you I should've taken the rear." Gendry grumbled as he carefully made his way to a nearby stone and sat, rubbing his legs.

"Leave him be, Loras. Go and fetch wood for the fire. Ser Gendry and I will see to the tent and the fire pit."

"I do not think so, my lady." Loras adorned his smirk. "You may fall asleep blowing on the fire and we can't have you singeing all your pretty hair off. You will fetch the wood." Brienne protested, but yielded without much of a fuss. Gendry pulled the spade from the pack horse and started digging the pit while Loras began assembling the tent. They worked for a moment before Loras began to question him.

"If I may, ser, why would a young man like yourself wait so long to ask for a fair lady's hand in marriage?"

Gendry stopped shoveling for a moment, confused by the knight's curiosity, before answering, "Dunno. Just didn't see a need to rush into it is all."

"Not until you were to be torn away from your lady love?"

He resumed his assault on the earth. "Wouldn't say I love her. Not like in the songs, at least. But I do care for her and she's been nothing but good to me. Her father too."

"Then why not marry her father?"

Gendry stopped shoveling again and simply stood, dumbfounded at the suggestion, watching Loras hammer a stake into the ground with that smirk of his plain on his face. He was about to let Loras know what the men in the Brotherhood had said about the Knight of Flowers and the late King Renly and how that wasn't for him, that Willow and her father were good people and he wouldn't hear them insulted, when something struck him in the side of his head, half blinding him and knocking him to the ground, tossing his spade.

He clutched his head, his ears ringing either due to the blow or because of the sound of steel as Loras intercepted a cloaked figure. He had never seen the Knight of Flowers fight but all he could see now was a blur as the cloaked figure attacked, jumping and twirling with a dreadful grace, striking again and again, Loras parrying each swing with no room or time for error. After what seemed an exhaustive amount of time, the knight parried a blow, shoving the cloaked figure back.

Loras held his ground but did not advance, catching his breath. The cloaked figure turned sideways and adopted a stance Gendry had seen before, somewhere. _A water dancer. _Loras laughed and shouted at his adversary. "You will have to do better, _Cat_, if you wish to best me." Loras advanced and swung at her, but she easily knocked the blade from his hand and hit him square in the face with the butt of her sword. Loras cried out and fell to the ground, cursing and clutching his nose.

It was only then that Gendry realized he did not have his sword nor his footing as he tried to scramble on his hands and knees towards the spade a few paces away from him. He felt a foot on his back, pinning him to the ground. A hand grabbed a fistful of hair, violently yanking his head up and he felt cool steel against his throat.

She whispered into his ear, "Valar Morg-" She seemed to hesitate, and as quickly as she'd been on him, she was off him. Gendry gasped for air, feeling the trickle of blood down his neck. He looked to his right to see the woman wrestling a wolf, a very _large _wolf.

"Ser Gendry!" Brienne's terrified scream echoed through his ears as she came out of the bushes to his left, sword drawn, running full speed. He scooted back as far as his feet would push him and saw the woman and the wolf both looking to Brienne.

He saw that the woman wasn't a woman at all, but a girl. _Cat!_ Her eyes were wide with confusion, or perhaps frustration, and both girl and wolf turned and ran into the woods. Brienne hurried to Gendry, her eyes on his throat.

"You are hurt, ser." She tore a strip from her cloak and pressed it to his neck.

"Thank you, but I'm fine. The cut isn't deep or I'd be dead already." She let out a relieved sigh when she saw it was so. "What was that? That beast? Was that Cat from the inn?"

"Yes." She looked grim. "That was Cat. And a direwolf just saved your life."


	9. Chapter 9, Brienne

_**A/N: Life is happening all around me as is too often does. Haven't proof-read this. I work overnight this evening and I'll fix it then. Sadly, this fanfic is my only escape from my life right now. Thank you to all who have favorited this, left comments and such. Your optimism is encouraging. I'll put up another chapter as soon as I can.**_

Loras moaned as Brienne carefully bandaged his face. Cat had made a mess of his nose and she had set it as best she could. He had cried for a time, but she had given him wine and told him to shut up. "I should let it heal crooked for letting her escape. Tell me, Ser Loras, do you always lose against women?" It was meant as a jest, but she was much too angry with him to smile.

"It would seem so, yes. You wenches are a cruel lot. But if you'd ever care to see who could whose needlework is superior I assure you I would win at that." He winced as she tied the bandage round his head.

"It would not surprise me. I've always assumed you'd make a better wife than I would." She finished with a pat on his nose, causing him to tear up. "There. All better." Now, she smiled.

Gendry finished preparing the fire and blew on the flame quickening the blaze before sitting back with a look of scorn. He took another long drink from the wine flask he clutched in his hand, his second since the attack on his life, and stared ominously into the flames.

"Ser Gendry, we will take our leave before first light. It would be best if you did not fall from your horse." The wine Willow had given him for the journey was very strong. "I would hate to see Ser Loras' nose broken for nothing." Gendry did not reply, taking another long drink from his flask. She knew he was angry with them. She sighed and turned back to Loras. "If you had been alert this would not have happened. No doubt you were too busy staring at his trousers."

Loras grimaced. "And if you had not fallen asleep when we had the girl she wouldn't have had the opportunity to take me unawares. What took you so long gathering wood? Did you fall asleep then as well?"

"It is not every day that I cross paths with a direwolf. I came across the bitch and her pack as they were fighting. I was certain they would smell me but they paid me no mind until she had run them off. It was then that she looked to me and growled. I thought I was dead, but she turned and ran towards our camp. I followed as quickly as I could, only to find you were on the ground groveling over your nose. If you had-"

"You can dwell on what could have been as much as you like but it makes no difference now."

"As for falling asleep, I told you, she drugged me somehow. I am not as careless as you. My honor is all I have, ser. For some of us, that matters."

"And what of your honor when Ser Jaime visits your quarters at night? Or is it simply an honor to bed the Kingslayer?" She slapped him.

"My honor cannot be questioned by the likes of you! You, who act as if nothing can touch you, as if you never err! Your looks may fool others but they do not fool me. I know you for the worthless-"

"Shut up! Both of you, just shut up! I am sick of your quarrels, day and night! What of lies and honor? Is it honorable to lie so long as your precious Queen gets what she wants?" Gendry's outburst shocked them.

"Careful, blacksmith." Loras glowered at Gendry. "Our Queen is most precious, as are her wants. You may denounce us, but you will not denounce our Queen. And yes, I will lie with every breath that leaves my lips if it please her, bugger honor."

Gendry's brow was furrowed in thought and frustration. He turned to them, fire in his eyes. "You knew the girl intended to kill me. And you invited to her to our table so she might break bread and have drinks with us. You're not here to escort me to some tourney. During the war I fought for the Brotherhood, not the Queen. I am supposed to believe that she heard stories of how bravely I fought for the peasants, is that it? Why should she care? Nobles are only concerned with themselves, not the smallfolk that harvest their food, protect their borders and pretend they're somehow grateful, that it's honorable to serve someone who cares not if they live or die. Why am I of such interest that the Dragon would send two of her Queensguard to escort me to King's Landing?"

Brienne and Loras both sat silent for a moment before Loras answered, "The fury is clearly yours, ser. And for good reason. Yes, we have been dishonest. As we have told you, it is not our place to inform you of the Queen's intentions."

"But the fury is mine, is it? You mean to tell me I am a bastard of King Robert's." He waited for a response but was met with silence. "My fellows in the Brotherhood would suggest as much when they were deep in their cups. 'Ser, you look the very ghost of King Robert' they would say. I've never been tempted to believe it, but now…" He shook his head. "She means to execute me like Edric Storm, is that it? To make an example of me in front of the realm? Do all queens quake in the shadow of their predecessors?"

_You are as Baratheon as you are stupid. _"If Her Grace meant to kill you, why go to the trouble of sending two knights of the Queensguard to keep you safe? Why not have us kill you? Or better yet, let this assassin do the job." Though she did not entirely pity him, she softened her tone. "She does not mean to end your life unless you make a claim to the throne."

"And why would I want to do that? I have half a mind to saddle my horse and ride back to Willow."

"But that is not truly what you want, is it?" Loras sat up and stared intently at Gendry. "You have lived your life thus far as insignificantly as possible. You have been afraid to think of yourself as more than a lowborn bastard for what that might mean. You are a bastard, that's true enough, but what might you hope for yourself if you're more than that?"

Gendry stared back into the fire. When he finally spoke, his tone was stalwart. "Who is Cat? You knew she meant to kill me and why."

Loras looked to Brienne, unsure of how to continue. She treaded carefully, "She is an assassin sent to end your life."

Though it was quiet, she heard Loras muttering, "Wench's mouth."

"That much is obvious. But if the Queen does not mean to end my life, who would have me dead?"

"We are not sure." This, she truly did not know. "Even the Queen is unsure. All we know is that Her Grace would have you alive and well, and we intend to keep you that way."

"And does Her Grace intend to allow my return to Willow? Am I free so long as I renounce my claim to her throne?"

He was smarter than he looked. Loras cleared his throat and replied, "You will remain in King's Landing as long as Her Grace will have you there. She means to make a lord out of you." Brienne shot him a dark look.

She whispered back, "Wench's mouth."

"A lord?" Gendry laughed and then sombered. "Perhaps once that could have meant everything to me. Truth be told, if she could give me what I truly wanted then I wouldn't hesitate to give her everything I could to make my dreams come true. But dreams that remain dreams for too long turn into nightmares."

Brienne was flabbergasted at the comment. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Gendry turned to her, his blue eyes watering. "If you'd ever truly wanted something you could never have, you would know."


	10. Chapter 10, Arya

_**A/N: It was brought to my attention that Faceless Men can't kill people they know. Oops. Tried to address that in this chapter. If anyone spots anything directly contradicting the books please feel free to point it out to me as I'm trying to make this as plausible as possible in the context of Martin's universe. Thanks so much to everyone who's reading and for the kind reviews!**_

She ran as fast as she could, the world around her a blur through the tears in her eyes. Branches scratched her face and her hands as she shoved them out of the way, sobbing. It was dark now that night was falling and even darker still beneath the canopy of leaves above her. She tripped and slid to a halt across damp, loose earth and leaves. She cried harder, more out of frustration than pain.

Thinking back on what had transpired, she dug her nails into the soft earth beside her. She had been on him, about to end it all when she had frozen, unable to move or think for what seemed an eternity. But she could see, she could smell and worst of all she could feel. His hair was soft in her hands, his torso quaked beneath her with each breath he took and he smelled like… like Gendry, a unique mixture of boy, musk and leather. It had overloaded her senses and she'd felt a queer feeling in her chest and stomach. And then she'd been knocked off of him by the direwolf. _The direwolf!_

She looked up and saw the direwolf seated on the ground a few paces away, head down between her front paws, peering at her with an almost frightened look. She hadn't even heard her approach. The direwolf let out a tiny whimper and stood, taking a careful step forward and lowering her head in a gesture of submission. "Nymeria?" Arya choked out and the direwolf bound toward her. She flung her arms about her neck, clutching her fur and began crying all over again, burying her face in her fur.

"Why did you do it, Nymeria? Why did you stop me?" She sat back to look the direwolf in the eyes and she whimpered and licked the tears from her face. Arya laughed. She _laughed_. She couldn't remember the last time she'd done that in earnest. She scratched Nymeria behind her ears and ruffled the fur atop her head. Nymeria seemed to smile, tongue hanging lazily from her mouth and she put a paw on Arya's shoulder. It was heavy. She was _big_, twice the size from when she'd run her off to save her from Joffrey's men. _That little cunt. I'm glad he's dead. _"I've missed you, Nymeria. I'm so sorry I sent you away." She licked her hand.

She realized she was remembering. Nymeria, Gendry, Joffrey, the Hound and as she looked about her the face of her father invaded her mind's eye as she found herself sitting in a weirwood. The weirwood always reminded her of her father. A deluge of memories and emotions came raucously flooding from somewhere deep within her and she felt her hands and feet, even her face begin to go tingly and numb. She began breathing quickly, unable to suck in air fast enough, and her heart was beating so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest.

She lay down on her side, crying once again and Nymeria lay beside her, resting her head next to hers. She thought of the weirwood and her father, of seeing him at the Sept of Baelor before Ser Ilyn Payne took his head. She thought of her sister Sansa, King Joffrey and Queen Cersei looking about the raging crowd. Her brothers Bran, full of life, Rickon, wild as she ever was, Robb with his strained sense of dignity, and most of all her half-brother Jon, always kind and loving and understanding. She even thought of her mother, different as she may have been from her youngest daughter, and she missed them all. She missed them so much it was all she could do to cry out.

And then there was Gendry. That bull-headed bastard boy with his stupid questions and the stupid face he made when he thought too hard and his stupid voice, stupid blue eyes and stupid hair, and that stupid way he used to smile at her for no reason at all. He wasn't a boy anymore. She had felt his strength when she'd gone to end his life. The rock she'd thrown had struck him just above and behind his ear and she knew it had incapacitated him, but despite it she'd felt his strength.

She remembered their wild journey, first traveling with Yoren of the Night's Watch bound for Castle Black at the Wall. With them she'd also met Hot Pie, Lommy and the little girl Weasel. Yoren was slain and they'd been taken to Harrenhal where she met Jaqen. What would Jaqen think of her now? Her thoughts were interrupted by Nymeria, growling. She was staring off into the darkness and Arya saw the glow of eyes amidst the trees. _Wolves. _Nymeria did not move, only growling more fiercely and baring her teeth.

One of the wolves howled and Nymeria returned it, AAAA-WOOOOO! The sound sent shivers down her spine as she envisioned Winterfell at night with the howls of Nymeria and her siblings. Her howl sounded dreadfully sad. The glowing eyes hovered in the dark a moment and then disappeared into the black. The direwolf gave a soft whine and nuzzled Arya's chest. She stroked her fur and held her there, shushing and cooing softly. "They were your pack, weren't they?"

This was all Nymeria's doing, she was certain. Perhaps it was possible to forget her old life, forget her family and those she cared for, even Nymeria. But Nymeria would not forget her, could not forget her. Of that much she was certain. Arya could not deny that now, after returning to Westeros she no longer had a desire to let go of her past as painful as it was to remember it. Though much of her old life was dead and gone for good she could find no reason to throw away what still remained of it.

Bran, Rickon and Sansa were still alive. And Gendry. She owed it to them as much as herself to come back from the dead. Her mind was made up. She would abandon the guild of the Faceless Men and she prayed they would allow her that. She had yet to be fully initiated anyway or else she wouldn't have been sent to kill Gendry, someone she knew. Faceless Men were forbidden from killing men that they knew. It did irk her that she wasted so much time in Braavos chasing a dream she wasn't meant to realize, but now she resolved what she truly wanted.

She looked Nymeria in the eyes again. "You have left your pack and I will leave mine." Not that the guild was truly what she considered a pack, but it was the closest thing to family she's had for years. She would miss the Kindly Old Man and even Izembaro as much as he frustrated her, but that was not where she belonged. "We must go find my horse. Promise me you won't scare him." She smiled as Nymeria jumped and whirled around excitedly, tail wagging.

She took off running, the direwolf bounding at her side.


	11. Chapter 11, Daenerys

_**A/N: Well, I -finally- had a chance to sit down and finish this chapter. Sorry it took so long.**_

Dany stood on her balcony looking over the city, glowing in the golden light of sunset. It was not the most beautiful city she'd ever seen by any means, but it was hers and in this moment it was as majestic as she'd always dreamed it would be. Below and beyond her the myriad smells and sounds of the bustling city, thriving in excited anticipation of the upcoming tourney, drifted up and she closed her eyes to enjoy it all, immersing herself. This was home. This was where she was meant to be.

King's Landing had never been more alive than it was now with the streets, inns and brothels overflowing with patrons from all over Westeros. She'd ordered a grand celebration for Ser Barristan Selmy being named her Hand, much to his and Tyrion's dismay. Ser Barristan's objection was purely out of humility but Tyrion had groveled on about the cost of it saying that a grand melee, a joust and an archery competition would cost far too much.

Dany had come close to relenting at Tyrion's behest but his brother Jaime had come to the rescue of her intentions. "There is no need to be frugal. The Keep's coffers can afford Her Grace this one indulgence."

"How can you be so sure of that, Jaime? The last I checked I was still Master of Coin." Tyrion did not bother to hide his annoyance.

Jaime adorned his familiar smirk. "Perhaps you shouldn't fall so deep in your cups every night, sweet brother. Just last evening you were bragging how Littlefinger would be turning in his grave if he knew how much gold your exploits were bringing in and that for the first time in, what did you say, twenty years? Yes, twenty. For the first in twenty years the throne is absolved of debt."

"And the crown will be _back _in debt if we are reckless with expenditures." Tyrion crossed his arms. Dany could not tell what it was, but she could tell something was bothering him. No matter, she did not intend to run her kingdom into the ground as the Usurper had. Since claiming her throne she hadn't held any formal celebration and Varys assured her the people would love it. He'd told her how his birds sang songs of their love for her and their only complaint so far had been a noticed lack of a formal celebration.

"Not that they _need _any more reason to love you, Your Grace, but the tourney to celebrate Ser Barristan's appointment is sure to please them. The war took its toll on all of us and this will be a welcome distraction from their daily lives and sorrows." Varys did have his moments of honesty, it would seem. Upon announcing the tourney the streets had filled with shouts and she could hear them shouting her name for days after.

"You look a goddess in this light, Your Grace." She did not need to turn to see who had said it. "You are far more beautiful than words can describe, I confess I am at a loss. And I am seldom at a loss for words."

Dany lowered her head and blushed. "Flattery suits you well, Ser Jaime, but your words are lost on me."

He walked up and stood beside her, looking out over the city. They remained that way for a moment in silence before Jaime spoke again. "What is wrong, Your Grace? Something troubles you. Do not try to deny it."

"My worries are only for that of my people. Their burdens are my burdens. But what of you, ser? You nor your brother have been yourselves as of late." She rested her hand on his and squeezed, only to be reminded of the golden prosthetic beneath the leather glove. He paid it no mind.

"My brother is nervous about seeing his wife. Lady Sansa has always had a queer sort of power over him since they remarried. Half a man loves more than most whole ones, it would seem." He sighed. Dany knew Jaime loved his brother dearly.

"I am aware of how they came to be wed the first time, but no one has explained to me why they wed again and why they are separated. Does he not wish to be with her?" This was not entirely true. She did know of their arrangement but was not wholly convinced her handmaidens were privy to the details. She preferred to hear what Jaime had to say on the subject.

Jaime grimaced. "Lady Sansa does not wish to have a husband at all. My guess is that the politics of it, you know, marriage and such, has left a bitter taste in her mouth. She asked my brother to wed her again to keep the plethora of love-struck lords vying for her hand as far away from her as possible. And, you have seen my brother, yes?" Dany smiled and looked down at her hands. "He is not likely to have many more marriage proposals as he ages. Truth be told, I think he'd trade everything he has to be with her. He truly does love her and if a loveless, distant marriage is what she wants from him, and if that is what it takes to make her happy, he's far too much of a gentleman to deny her that." Jaime's eyes were downcast. He clearly pitied his sibling.

Dany was at a loss for words. She'd known that he imp held a nagging affection for the Stark woman but she'd had no clue how he truly felt. "Is she aware of how he feels?"

Jaime thought for a moment. "If she isn't she is blind." He traced his fingers across his gloved hand. "I don't blame her for it. And neither does Tyrion. What my son put her through is traumatic enough to make any person bitter at the notions of marriage and love. Tyrion blames himself." Jaime looked to Dany with a cross smile. "He wishes he'd killed Cersei when we were all still children running about Casterly Rock."

Dany laughed at that. "And you would have let him?"

Jaime scoffed, "Of course I wouldn't have _let_ him. For many years she was all I wanted and more."

She studied his face, searching for a hint of sorrow, but found none. Smiling, she asked, "And now you want Brienne?"

In all the time she had known Ser Jaime, she'd never seen him blush but now his face turned Lannister red. "How can I want something that I already have? It's true, she is not as beautiful as Cersei was. My love for Cersei was vain, however. The more time that passes the more I'm convinced I only loved what I saw of myself in her." He paused. "Brienne is… not my sister. And she is not someone I would have ever _chosen _to love. But there it is." He shrugged and looked to Dany.

"Is love truly that simple? There it is?" She asked before even thinking. Her mind swimming with memories of Drogo and how she'd come to love him so much she'd sacrificed her unborn child to save him.

Jaime did not answer her question. It hung in the air with all the sounds and smells of her great city. "Do you hope to love again, Dany?" She was not angered that he'd called her that. She knew he was concerned for her and she appreciated the lack of formality. Still, she could not find the words to respond. "Do you truly wish to marry this bastard? This boy you have never met, that you have only heard stories of? This boy that is the seed of the man you still despise?"

Her dragon stirred at the mention of Robert. "He is not the Usurper. And if Varys tells it true he has no knowledge of his true father. If he proves to be troublesome he will die for it."

"And if he does not you will make him your king?"

"He will be a king only in title. I am Daenerys Stormborn, the Mother of Dragons. Westeros is mine and no one will take it from me, not while I breathe." Her knuckles turned white as she clutched the stone rail.

"I do not mean to upset you, Your Grace. If you wish to make him your husband, that is your royal prerogative. No man in Westeros will try to stop you. I only wish to see you happy, and you are not." Jaime stared directly into her eyes and she felt them moisten.

She took a calming breath and collected herself. "As I have told you, Ser Jaime, I am only as happy as my people."

"Listen, Your Grace." He gestured to the city below them. "Your people are happier than they have any right to be. Legitimize the bastard, seat him in Storm's End and be done with it. Your people will be happy with or without that."

She backed away from the rail and smoothed her dress. "Perhaps they would be."

"Your Grace?" Varys appeared at the door to the balcony, silent as a whisper.

"Yes, Varys. What is it?" Dany did not mean to sound curt but she'd found it difficult to be gentle with the eunuch.

"A raven has arrived from Ser Loras and the Lady Brienne." He smiled.

Jaime looked positively livid. "That's _Ser _Lady Brienne."

Varys giggled. "Of course. Your knights should arrive in a fortnight."

"Good. And what of the bastard and the Stark girl?" Dany queried.

The Whisperer's hands were a blur. "She made an attempt on the boy's life." He paused dramatically. "And failed. They were not able to capture her."

This news was not entirely awful. "Let us pray that she gives me no further reason to take her head." She bowed to the both of them. "Thank you, Varys. You may both take your leave. Jaime, fetch your brother and send him to me at once."

"As you command, Your Grace." Jaime bowed and they both exited leaving Dany alone once more on her balcony. She turned back to the city. It was growing dark now and King's Landing had begun to quiet. She again closed her eyes and relished the peace. The bastard was safe and although the Stark girl remained free it did not bother her.

She was the Mother of Dragons and she would have what she wanted.


	12. Chapter 12, Loras

He and Brienne had spoken to each other only out of necessity after Ser Gendry's outburst. Loras wasn't heartbroken over it but their banter did serve to pass the time and he found himself tempted to vex her just to hear her coarse voice scold him. Gendry seemed to favor silence as well, having spoken hardly a word since their conversation by the fire two nights before. Their pace had slowed even more now that the Kingsroad was filling with an assortment of sellswords, peasants, nobles, knights, bards and everything else one might expect to find at a tourney.

Some knights and nobles flew banners of their respective houses but the queen's sigil of House Targaryen was proving the most common sight. They varied in size and shape, some looking quite impressive while others appeared so crude Loras thought they might be meant as an insult. No matter, those bearing them waved and flew them as proudly as he'd ever seen.

The high amount of traffic did offer a great deal of safety for them, of that Loras couldn't complain. Bandits were always a threat in the wake of the war and with so many travelers their chances of being ambushed were significantly reduced. Their white cloaks were enough to ward off most would-be attackers, but not all thieves were wise men. He was suddenly distracted from his thoughts by a shot of pain down his side. He grunted and hunched over for a moment, wincing.

"Are you alright?" Gendry rode up beside him, the pack horse bobbing its head as it hurried its pace behind him.

Loras straightened himself and shrugged it off. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you." He looked over to Gendry, smiling with those deep blue eyes of his. "I believe I strained it fighting your assassin." He patted his side. "I am very sorry about that. It's not every day a woman bests me in a fight." He threw a glance back toward Brienne. She was watching them intently.

"It's my fault as much as it was yours, ser." Gendry smiled reassuringly though Loras knew it wasn't the truth. He was a knight of the Queensguard and Gendry was hardly a knight at all. Still, it made Loras' heart flutter a bit more than it should to hear his kind words. At first glance, Gendry appeared rough around the edges, almost brutish and perhaps stupid, but he had a boyish innocence to his face and once he'd forsaken his typical scowl for a smile he seemed almost a teddy bear covered in armor. A blue-eyed teddy bear with shaggy black hair, unkempt and slightly greasy. And well-muscled. "Though she disarmed you, I was still impressed by your prowess with a sword."

Loras turned away so Gendry wouldn't see him blush. _Here I am a knight feeling every bit a lady. _"You flatter me, ser. I do hope you'll consider entering the melee. I'd like to see how you wield something other than a spade." Gendry laughed at that.

"I don't think that's likely. I've never been much for glory. I intend to settle whatever it is the Queen wants with me and be on my way." Gendry's smile dissipated as he focused on the road ahead of them, his brow furrowed in thought.

Loras frowned. "Back to the girl at the inn?" Gendry nodded. "I don't mean to be bold, but you've said yourself you don't love her. Why trade what might wait for you in King's Landing for a life of peasantry?"

Gendry raised an eyebrow. "And what might wait for me in King's Landing?" Loras began to reply, but he cut him off. "I know, you can't tell me. Rather, you _won't _tell me. I can't imagine what Her Grace might want from me other than a pledge of fealty. I'll give her as much. But why send the two of you to guard me on my journey unless she knows someone wants me dead? Who in the seven hells would want me dead except her?"

"You'll find out soon enough." Loras kept his gaze on the road.

"Or you could tell me if I'll find out soon enough." Loras remained silent. When Gendry said nothing else, he looked over to find the knight looking at him. "Please?"

Loras sighed. _Gods curse you Baratheons. _It had not been in his nature to deny Renly anything he asked of him and he was finding it difficult to deny Gendry as well. He glanced over his shoulder to make certain Brienne was far enough behind them before leaning over and whispering, "I can't tell you who wants you dead, but I can tell you this against my better judgment. Her Grace means to legitimize you. The people of Storm's End aren't pleased that all the Baratheons have perished. You will be a welcome sight for their eyes. She'll make a lord out of you and do whatever she sees fit to please the people."

Gendry was flabbergasted. "A lord?" he said too loudly. Loras shushed him and glanced back to Brienne, drinking from her flask. She hadn't heard or else his head would be parted from his shoulders by now. "A lord?" Gendry asked again, this time much more quietly. "I don't know the first thing about being a lord. And why would anyone care about me even if my father was King Robert? I'm just a bastard." His eyes were wild.

"You are _not _just a bastard, Gendry. You must stop telling yourself that. You will be whatever Her Grace says you will be. You may have doubts as to your parentage but most others will not. You look very much like King Robert and you could pass for Renly's twin." He knew he'd said too much, but continued anyway. "As for knowing how to be a lord I assure you there's not much to it. Learn how to speak properly, stand up straight, hold your head high and your servants will do the rest for you."

"Servants?" Gendry looked as if he might fall from his horse.

"Yes, some lords have servants." Surely he was being willfully ignorant. "Perhaps not all do but you will be granted a castle and lands at the least." Gendry looked dumbstruck and Loras couldn't help but find it endearing. With a forced frown, he added, "And it is not likely you will be allowed to wed Willow. Her Grace will find you a proper lady. And perhaps something more than just a lady."

"Something more?" Gendry was not allowed to continue as Brienne shouted from behind them.

"Hold! We are losing light." She sounded every bit a banshee as she screeched at them. "We should make camp here."

"Next to the commoners?" Loras complained as he turned round. "Let us continue on a bit further and find a spot somewhat less populated." Brienne scowled and nodded. He knew that Ser Jaime's air of importance had rubbed off on her and he thought her the better for it. He leaned towards Gendry again. "I cannot speak for Her Grace, as you know. I know some of her intentions but not all."

"I will not be allowed to return to Willow, you are certain?"

It was Loras' turn to nod. "You do not love her, Gendry. It will be easier than you might expect."

"Did you love Lord Renly, ser?" He found this question peculiar, and stayed silent a moment before responding.

"Yes. Very much. Not a day passes that I don't think of him." He looked at Gendry, staring at his reigns so hard he thought he might break them. "Have you ever loved anyone, Ser Gendry?"

"I might have." His response was immediate.

"What does that mean?"

Gendry sighed and glanced around before responding this time. "It means if I'd been given the chance, yes, I think I would have."


	13. Chapter 13, Gendry

_**A/N: The more I write this the more I feel I'm screwing it up. I feel like I should rename this fic "Emo Gendry." D: Whatever. I'm doing the best I can. A big thanks to everyone that's taken interest in this. I'm really trying not to let you down. Anyway, everyone seems to want Arya to reveal herself. And she will. Just not today. Or maybe today. We'll see. Depends on how drunk I get by this evening, so probably not today. K. I'm done blathering on. Cheers! Hope you enjoy. **_

When Brienne and Loras had finally come across a spot they both agreed suitable for camp, Gendry sighed with relief and began his ritualistic task of digging the fire pit. He had much on his mind after Loras' revelations and it was easier for him to think with a tool in his hands than on horseback. Still, he was not accustomed to riding. His legs and back ached from their days of constant travel and it was a welcome relief to be able to stand and stretch to his liking.

His thoughts traveled back and forth from Loras' words to Willow back at the inn. He'd made a promise to marry her but now that seemed improbable. _She will have to understand. If it were up to me I would return to her. Who am I to disregard the queen's wishes? _As much as he tried to reason that his destiny was beyond his control, he couldn't help but feel guilty. Willow truly loved him, he knew. She and her father had been the only family he'd ever had but they would have to understand. _At least I never bedded her. At least we hadn't married sooner. Surely this would be more difficult for her if I'd welcomed her advances. _

It wasn't his fault who his father was nor what their queen wished to do with him. Yes, Willow would have to understand. Perhaps she could come visit him someday, or he could visit her if for nothing else than to just to thank her for everything she'd done for him, everything she'd been to him. And it was true he didn't love her. Perhaps like a sister, but not like a lover should love. He'd offered to wed her out of pity and guilt more than anything else.

For every moment he did feel guilty, two were spent feeling excitedly anxious. Yes, he had no clue how to be a lord but how hard could it be? The rawest part of the deal Loras had laid before him was marriage. _Will the queen let me choose? Will she offer up some cold-hearted bitch who only sees me as a bastard? What if she's ugly? What if I never learn to love her? What if she never learns to love me? _He stopped shoveling for a moment and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

His entire life he hadn't really known what he wanted. He'd so often settled with being content in his circumstances. While growing up in King's Landing the life of a blacksmith had seemed more than he deserved when it was offered to him. How could he have denied it? And even after being told he was being sent to the Wall, while it was not something he truly wanted at least he could die with honor knowing he'd served a purpose greater than himself. It wasn't until he'd met that little boy, or as he'd soon figured out, that little girl, that he began to question what he might _want _out of life.

At first, when he didn't know she was a girl, he'd felt sorry her. Here she was, all of ten years of age, the runt of their group, defenseless but stupidly defiant. He'd felt compelled to protect her. And after learning she was a girl he'd seen her as a little sister. No one had ever trusted him with anything, but she'd trusted him with his secret. She wasn't just a girl, but a _highborn _girl. And then he'd gotten them captured, taken to that dreadful place Harrenhal, and she'd continued proving to be everything he'd never expected from a highborn lady.

She'd killed a man to allow their escape. Though he'd never asked her about it, he'd seen the blood on her hands as they rode through and beyond the ruined gate. More than anything, he respected her for it. She'd murdered for him and for Hot Pie, her friends. Or maybe she'd murdered only for herself, it didn't matter. He was sure she could have traveled much faster without Hot Pie and perhaps even without him, but he suspected that she needed him. And he would have followed her anywhere she went.

She fascinated him, this little sister of his. It wasn't until they'd come to that inn, that place where she'd been dressed up in an acorn dress, that he'd suddenly realized she wouldn't alwaysbe a little girl, wouldn't always be like a little sister. She'd grow up and marry a lord. She wouldn't need him to protect her any longer. She'd have a husband and a castle and lands and servants and knights sworn to guard her. She would have no need of a low-born bastard blacksmith's apprentice.

But now he would no longer be low-born. It hadn't been enough to be a knight, even then he'd failed her. But if he was a lord he could offer her more protection than he could provide her on his own. _Why taunt yourself with daydreams? She is gone along with her mother and brother at the Twins. _No, perhaps he didn't know what he wanted, but he knew he didn't want to waste his life dreaming of something he could never have. Being a lord was something that, apparently, he _could_ have. He could have a comfortable life with someone to warm his bed, children that would grow up pampered and proper and smarter than he'd ever been with a maester to teach them how to read and write, how to speak properly, numbers and history and everything else that mattered. His children would never hunger, never doubt their purpose in life, never ask themselves the questions he'd asked himself.

Still, it was not enough.

"That hole isn't going to dig itself." Brienne pulled a chunk of mud from one of the pack horse's hooves. Gendry snapped back into reality and continued digging. "I heard what Loras said to you."

He stopped again and looked up to her. Her face lacked expression. "Please don't be angry with him. He only did what I asked."

"I am always angry with him. But I am not without sympathy." She lowered the horse's foot and came to sit near him. "Love is a peculiar creature. If you understand it, you haven't felt it."

He didn't know what to say to that. He continued digging, waiting for her to elaborate.

"Do not fret, ser. Her Grace is kind and just. She will not place a burden on you that you cannot bear. What Loras said to you is true enough, but she will help you as you need."

"Have you ever loved, Brienne?"

She smiled. "Yes. And Her Grace could have my head and his if she wished. We are both breaking an oath but she cares not. She wishes us to be happy."

He couldn't believe it. "She wishes you to be _happy_? Why would she care?"

"You judge her harshly." Gendry finished digging and sat next to Brienne as she continued. "Many things motivate us, Gendry. For some it is power, some glory. Many will tell you that revenge is the greatest. Her Grace believes that love is truly the most effective motivator. One can love most anything, but loving someone more than yourself is a rarity among most men. And women." She chuckled. "She would rather surround herself with these kinds of people than the most capable warriors, than the smartest of persons."

"That seems foolish. If their loyalty lies first with another they would turn on her to protect their own interests if it came to that."

"One would think, yes. But take my lover, for example. He knows I would cut his balls off if he ever did anything to bring harm to Her Grace. We love each other more than we can say but only because she allows it. And for that we are grateful."

"Then gratuity is what she seeks. I should be grateful that she allows me to live?"

"Yes, you should. And for so much more. Let us not forget that she defeated the Others. She saved the realm. If it were not for her, you and I would probably not be having this conversation." Gendy took a moment to think about all she'd said. Brienne did not give him long. "You loved the Stark girl, did you not? Her mother sent me to find her and I failed."

He felt tears beginning to swell in his eyes but fought them back. "I did care for her, yes. We tried to find her ourselves. We set out after the Hound and…" He couldn't finish.

"She did not die at the Twins." Her words hung like a single star in a blackened sky.

Gendry wept quietly. Brienne placed a hand on his back and rubbed his shoulder. Finally he spoke. "Maybe not, though she died in my heart long ago."

"That's not true. Your tears betray you, Ser Gendry. Even now she may be closer than you would dare to dream." He wept harder and she hugged him, whispering in his ear. "You once said to me that dreams that remain dreams for too long turn into nightmares. Be careful what you say, ser. One day you may wake to find your nightmares have come true."


	14. Chapter 14, Brienne

_**A/N: M rating due to gore (if you could really call it that... but I'm not familiar with the standards on this site so I'm playing it safe) and an f-bomb. As I promised many chapters before, there will be smut eventually. Before I started writing the first chapter I resolved that it was better to move things along too slowly rather than too quickly. So now I've FINALLY gotten to the part where... anyway. It's about damn time. RIGHT? :P Thanks once again to all who inexplicably like this shitty story of mine. You're keeping me at it. :)**_

Their journey was nearly over. They would arrive at King's Landing the day after the morrow barring any mishaps. Loras and Gendry were sleeping peacefully by the dying fire. It was past time for Loras to take up watch but Brienne was too anxious to sleep, her mind filled with thoughts of Jaime. It used to shame her to be so easily excited by the thought of him but she'd grown accustomed to it, even welcoming the intrusions on her concentration.

She'd been a maiden before he took her for the first time. Brienne had never dared to dream of romance and love and she was glad for it, surely she would have been disappointed. Their first time had been rather violent. She remembered every moment of it. They had been sparring in secret. Since losing his sword hand Jaime had been training with his left, but he was dismally pitiful with it. For months he'd fought her and each time she'd bested him. But he was a fast learner.

That night, he finally won and she hadn't even gone easy on him. She'd nearly had him but he surprised her with a flurry of blows that knocked her from her feet, dazed and shocked at his triumph. No man save Ser Loras had ever bested her since she was six and ten. He'd leapt on top of her, pinning her to the ground, his blade at her throat. Then he'd tossed his sword aside and…

A twig snapped in the trees nearby, robbing her of her thoughts. Immediately alert, she listened for any hint of danger. All remained quiet. She sighed and relaxed for a moment when a shadow caught her eye, a shadow in the shape of a man.

"Hold! Stop where you are!" She commanded.

The shadow obeyed at first but then began moving toward her. "You look a knight from afar but you're only a wench." The man's voice was low and sinister. As he stepped closer, she could see his tattered clothing and weathered face. He was armed with a rusted mace. "Look at you in your pretty white armor. If I was drunk I might fuck you 'til you cried for the Stranger, but you're ugly enough I might just kill you instead." His smile revealed black, rotting teeth.

Loras stirred and immediately saw the intruder. Gendry tossed and sleepily rubbed his eyes. "What's going on? Is it dawn already?" His blue eyes looked to her and then followed her own to the savage man. They both reached for their arms and stood, backing towards Brienne. Their movements nearly insulted her but she knew they were only being protective out of instinct.

"You had best leave us be, old man." Loras' voice was intimidating when he desired it to be. "One knight of the Queensguard could fell you easily enough. Two will have your head before you know it."

The old man widened his grin. "You hear that?" He spoke loudly. "Two knights of the Queensguard, he says. And one of them is a woman." He laughed. "I bet your armor would fetch a few dragons for us." Shadows moved behind him and seven more men emerged from the trees.

Brienne did not falter. "Your numbers deceive you as do your assumptions. Leave us be if you wish to live another night. The odds are still against you."

Their laughter came in unison. "The wench threatens us with odds, does she?" This voice came from behind them. Brienne turned to see a dozen more men at their rear. She glanced to Gendry and Loras, both ready. "I never cared much for odds, how about you lot?" The group agreed with haughty derision.

"Stay where you are!" Gendry probably meant to sound threatening but his voice quavered nonetheless. It was all the incentive the bandits needed to advance.

She turned back around and met a shortsword with her longsword. She immediately spun around the man and ran a cut across the back of his legs, felling him, and in a smooth motion brought her sword up to meet the next sword just before it crashed down on her shoulder. The night air filled with the sound of metal crossing metal for a moment when she heard it. A growl and an inhuman, guttural shriek pierced the air. She kicked back the man in front of her and shoved her sword through his neck as he fell to the ground before looking to her left. Brienne had seen her share of gore and had been the cause of the majority of it, but seeing a man's throat torn out nearly brought up the hard cheese and stale bread she'd supped on.

The direwolf swiftly bounded to a man hopelessly fumbling with a crossbow and knocked him to the ground, its mouth enveloping his face and tearing half of it from his skull in a torrent of flesh and blood. The beast jerked its head to the side and a crushed eyeball came to rest at Brienne's feet. A dozen men turned and ran into the night, screaming. She turned back around toward Gendry and Loras to see a cloaked figure assaulting the old man, twirling in a dazzling display of shimmers as blade met mace.

She almost felt sorry for the old sap as his mace flew from his hand against a devastatingly powerful blow. The cloaked figure spun around a final time and cut into his side through to his spine. He gasped and fell over under the force of it. Gendry stood beside the cloaked figure, chest heaving. Loras sheathed his sword and knelt as the direwolf approached him, tail wagging.

"It seems she likes you, Ser Loras." The woman did not look to him as she spoke, her back still turned to them as she watched the old man die. Loras was visibly wary, but he scratched the direwolf behind her ears as blood dripped from her jowls.

Brienne, sheathing her sword at last, approached the woman. "Why?" It was the only word she could muster.

Gendry placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Thank you, m'lady."

The woman turned and removed her hood revealing a face Brienne had never seen before. Gendry removed his hand from her shoulder and took a step backward, his eyes widening.

"Do _not _call me 'm'lady'. Arya Stark did not smile but looked him directly in his eyes and emphatically added, "Stupid."

Gendry stared at her, perplexed. They remained that way a moment before he squeaked out, "Arya?"

She paused and then nodded silently, blinking, looking almost frightened. Gendry remained frozen in his stance. She stepped forward and jumped, wrapping her arms round his neck, squeezing. Gendry fell to his knees and embraced her, hugging her so tight Brienne thought he might break her back.

It was quiet, but Brienne was certain she heard it. "I thought I'd never see you again." Gendry whispered. "I thought you were dead. I'm so sorry." His words gave over to tears. She did not respond, pulling him closer if it were possible, one hand clutching his shoulder, the other the back of his head.

"Ser Lady!" Loras tore her from her gaze. He walked towards her, his eyes on her torso. It was only then that Brienne looked down to see the bolt through her left shoulder. In the rush of battle she hadn't even noticed it. She held out her right hand to slow Loras and shook her head.

"It is only a flesh wound, ser." She smiled humorously. "I'm more concerned for you at the moment." Loras' nose still looked hideous and she wiped a trail of blood from his nostrils with her thumb as he winced at her touch. "Your face looks bloody awful." He returned her smile.

They turned to look back to Gendry and Arya, still clinging to one another like, once separated, they might never embrace again.


	15. Chapter 15, Arya

_**A/N: I'd like to be very clear that the lyrics that appear at the end of this chapter are credited to George R.R. Martin from his book "A Storm of Swords" and I do not lay any sort of claim to them whatsoever. Hope this chapter is worth the wait. :)**_

The morning was cool and humid, the smell of scorched flesh stagnant in the air. They had been up all night burning the bodies. Due to Brienne's injury, Loras had insisted they rest for a day and a night before continuing on to King's Landing. The tourney was not for a fortnight still and they were only two days travel from their destination. All of them were exhausted and there was no immediate need to rush.

Arya was quite impressed with Ser Lady Brienne. She had not winced or complained as Arya treated and dressed her wound. Brienne had begun to instruct Arya on what to do but she was well aware of how to clean and bandage a wound. The bolt had missed bone, luckily, and she had as gingerly as possible cleaned it with boiling wine and half a dozen herbs she'd brought with her from Braavos. Brienne would still need to see a maester but they were close enough to King's Landing that Arya was certain she could keep it from festering until then.

The entire time she'd tended to Brienne, Gendry had watched her intently. She could feel his eyes on her. Occasionally she would look over to him, his deep blue eyes appearing black in the light of the fire, and ask him to fetch her something from her pack or help hold a bandage in place as she applied ointments to it. She'd noticed that his hands had always been careful and slightly shaky as if he were afraid to be so near her, afraid to touch her.

They had not spoken much and now she leaned back against a stone, Nymeria curled up alongside her on her right, Gendry sitting expressionless to her left. Brienne lay sleeping by the fire and Loras had ridden off to find a traveling merchant or someone willing to sell a bit of wine for boiling and perhaps some food. The morning was beautiful despite the smell with birds singing songs to one another and in the distance the rising sun peeked from behind golden yellow and orange clouds in the sea of purple sky. He didn't seem to notice any of it, wearing his familiar thinking face as he stared at the dying embers in the fire pit. She shivered and pulled her cloak tightly around her.

"Are you always so quiet, Gendry?" she asked.

He quickly turned his head to her, his eyes wide. "Just have a lot on my mind is all." His expression softened, and he stretched out, laying on his side facing her and propping himself up with an arm. "Recently I feel like I'm dreaming. None of this seems real. Every time I go to sleep half of me is afraid of waking up back in my smithy and the other half is afraid I'll wake and find it's all really happening." She felt she knew what he meant and nodded. He started to say something but stopped himself, looking her in her eyes. "That's the first time I've heard you say my name in nearly six years, you know." He looked back at the ground and quietly added, "I've missed it. I've missed you."

Arya laughed. "Truly? You missed me?"

"Why is that funny?" Gendry looked offended. "Of course I missed you."

"It's not funny. I'm sorry, I don't mean it like that." She became more serious as she continued. "I just never expected that you cared enough to miss me. For a time I thought that you and Hot Pie were my friends, _my pack_ as silly as it sounds. But he left us. And then you joined the Brotherhood. I assumed you were glad to be getting rid of me." She reached out her hand and scratched Nymeria's head, not wanting to look at him.

"I'm sorry, Arya. I just… I just didn't think we would be together much longer anyway. Eventually they would have given you over to a relative for a ransom and where would I go from there? You're highborn and I'm as lowborn as it gets. Just a bastard…" his voice trailed off as his face screwed up in thought.

"What's done is done." She smiled at him reassuringly. "I forgive you, Ser Gendry."

"Thank you, m'lady." He grinned back at her and rolling her eyes she shoved his shoulder, knocking him onto his back and eliciting a deep laugh. "Look at highborn Lady Arya Stark, still shoving bastards around."

"I am most certainly no lady." She laughed with him and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and pulling her cloak as tight as it would go, emitting a small shiver.

"Are you cold?" He sat up.

"No." She lied.

Gendry wasted no time getting up and walking to one of his packs, rummaging for a moment and pulling out a cloak of his own. It was black and faded, tattered and frayed at the edges with patches here and there. He brought it over to her and knelt before her, gently draping it around her shoulders. It smelled of him and brought forth memories and images in her head that she hadn't thought of in years. He smiled at her and she hoped she wasn't visibly blushing. He then got back up and went over to their pile of wood and threw some onto the fire, stoking and breathing it back into life.

"That ought to help warm you up. Come, get closer." He sat down beside it and waved her over. She gave Nymeria a pat on the head and rose to her feet, crossing over and sitting down next to him. She tried to stifle a yawn but failed miserably. "Are you tired?"

"No." She lied again.

"You should try to sleep. There are circles under your eyes."

"I'm fine for now." It was no use fighting it and she yawned out the words, "I may try to sleep after Loras returns." Without really thinking, she leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder, gazing into the flames. She felt him tense up but after a moment he relaxed slightly and awkwardly reached his arm around her, his hand seemingly unsure of where to go before it finally came to rest on her side. She let out a small sigh, closing her eyes, and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" His voice was sweet.

"Trying to kill you." They hadn't discussed it at all.

He cleared his throat. "I'm glad you didn't. Why, though? Why did you want to kill me?"

She opened her eyes again, glancing around as if it might help her find an answer other than the truth. She found none. "I didn't _want_ to kill you. But I was ordered to." He remained silent. "To become a Faceless Man you have to forsake everything of your former self. You must abandon all of who you used to be and become someone new. I tried to forget everything, everyone. My brothers, my sister, my parents, you, even Nymeria. I don't know how they knew who you were, but all I can think is that I must have said your name in my sleep, perhaps. Somehow they knew that you were one of the many things I hadn't been able to forget."

"I couldn't forget you either." He leaned his head over to rest on hers. They remained that way for a time."What will you do after we get to King's Landing?"

She hadn't thought that through just yet. "I don't know. I suppose I'll hope someone there can recognize me as the real Arya Stark." She was sure Gendry knew of the impostor that had been married to Lord Bolton's bastard before it was revealed she was a fraud. "I'll swear fealty to Queen Daenerys and after that I suppose I'll go visit my brothers and sister." Her eyes watered at the thought of seeing them. "You should come with me after the tourney."

He sighed. "I don't think I'll be able to do that."

Arya frowned. "That's alright. You'll be going back to the inn, yes?" She pulled his cloak more snugly around her. "To that girl." There was no mistaking the disdain in her voice.

"No. If Loras and Brienne tell it true I won't be leaving King's Landing any time soon. Her Grace means to make a lord."

She raised her head to look him in his eyes, smiling. "A _lord?"_ She laughed. "Lord Gendry Waters! Beg your pardons for forgetting my courtesies, _m'lord."_ She grinned mockingly.

Gendry didn't return her grin and shook his head. "Lord Gendry Baratheon."

Her smile dissipated in an instant. _"Baratheon?"_ A dozen thoughts raced through her mind at once. She couldn't believe she'd never noticed it before, but looking at him now she could see the resemblance. He nodded. "That's why the gold cloaks wanted you. That's why they sent you to the wall." She sat upright and he withdrew his arm from around her.

"I never really thought about it. Yeah, I s'pose so." He shrugged.

"And the queen means to legitimize the bastard son of the man who murdered her family and stole the Iron Throne from her?" He only blinked. "Are you really so stupid?"

He shook his head again. "Loras told me she means to place me in Storm's End, probably. The people wish to have a Baratheon seated there. I'll swear fealty to her, she'll legitimize me and, I don't know… Send me off and find me a wife who can run a castle."

"Lucky you." She said dryly, looking to the ground. She was careful to sound kind with her words, "At least you'll have one less thing to hate about yourself. And a hundred new things. I promise, being highborn is not what it's built up to be, least not for people like you and me. I'm happy for you, Gendry. But I pity you all the same." She leaned into him and rested her head back on his shoulder, suddenly feeling sleepy again.

"You shouldn't pity me. It means I'll be worthy of a lady."

She wondered what he meant by that. "A castle and lady and a featherbed may be what you want, but those kinds of things are not for me. Not ever."

"And what kinds of things are for you, Arya?" Hearing her name still sounded wrong, but it felt right.

"Exciting things."

He laughed and put his arm around her again. As her head lay on his shoulder she could feel his voice as he softly sang.

_"My featherbed is deep and soft, and there I'll lay you down. I'll dress you all in yellow silk, and on your head a crown. For you shall be my lady love, and I shall be your lord. I'll always keep you warm and safe, and guard you with my sword."_

She closed her eyes and finished the verse as she felt sleep beginning to take her.

_"And how she smiled and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree. She spun away and said to him, no featherbed for me. I'll wear a gown of golden leaves, and bind my hair with grass. But you can be my forest love, and me your forest lass."_

He held her tighter and rested his head back on hers. She drifted off to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16, Loras

_**A/N: So life's been kinda crazy recently. Between drama at work, drama among friends and hospitalization due to a "super bug" and severe dehydration I haven't had time to sit down and finish this chapter. So tonight I finally sat down and finished it and also wrote the next chapter. Good news and bad news... Spoiler, nothing incredibly interesting happens in either one. That's the bad news. The good news is that I'm getting closer to the actual, you know, GOOD part (or so I think) of this story. Anyway, hope you enjoy.**_

"It looks uglier than I remember." King's Landing was visible in the distance and disappointment was plain in Arya's voice.

"Looks about the same to me, though I never much saw it from the outside." Gendry's excitement matched Arya's. The both of them had been in something of a foul mood since dawn. They would mutter quietly to one another and sigh intermittently. Loras was unsure if they were arguing or discussing something that frustrated them, but he favored the latter.

He could hear Arya's direwolf in the woods to their right, running a ways and then stopping and then dashing again, causing an awful raucous in the leaves and brush. The beast had a knack for making his horse want to buck and he'd grown tired of constantly rubbing the mare's neck to calm and reassure her. Rosby Road had been a welcome sight for him despite his companions' lack of enthusiasm.

As they arrived at the Gate of the Gods his ears were assaulted with the cries of a number of merchants and beggars camped just outside the city walls. Secretly, he felt guilty about despising smallfolk and their annoying habits but as much as he tried he couldn't help feel otherwise. It was one of the many things he'd envied about Renly. As refined as the late king had been he'd always been able to love anyone who loved him. Loras was sure there were many who loved him, the Knight of Flowers, but even before Renly's death had made him bitter he seldom found it within his capabilities to have patience for anyone but a select few.

As they passed through the gate he found himself smiling. King's Landing was not home for him but he did enjoy it all the same. Cobbler's Square was positively chaotic. _Has all of Westeros descended on the capital to see the Dragon Queen's first tourney? _He decided it was possible. King's Landing had been overflowing anyway since Daenerys had taken the throne. The last Targaryen had fascinated the people well enough but her dragons were an entirely different matter.

Thankfully, Tyrion had seen that as a business opportunity, charging "a dragon for a dragon" to any that would like to see one up close. The Keep's coffers hadn't been fuller in living memory despite Dany's liberal spending habits. She not only spoiled herself, however. Flea Bottom had never seen better days and she'd been generous with any lord who'd come to her asking for assistance with restoring their lands and holds.

In the distance he could see the Red Keep rising above all else atop Aegon's High Hill. It wasn't a sight that took his breath away like Highgarden when its most beautiful flowers were in full bloom, but he still found King's Landing to be a welcome sight on many occasions. To their right, the Sept of Baelor, cresting Visenya's Hill, stood in all its majesty and to their left, Rhaenys's Hill with its refurbished Dragonpit.

As they progressed down the Street of Seeds towards the Red Keep, the people began to stop and stare. Two knights of the Queensguard were a common enough sight in King's Landing, but their travel companions seemed to be what had piqued their interests. That, and the large direwolf following beside Arya. Gendry and Arya remained somber, looking straight ahead.

Brienne whispered to Loras, gesturing to them. "You'd think they were headed to a funeral."

Loras only nodded. Aside from the awkward stares and occasional whispers of "Baratheon" and "Stark" their trip to the Red Keep was uneventful. Once inside the Keep's Walls, two gold cloaks took their horses and led Nymeria to the kennels. They were greeted by none other than Lord Varys, practically gliding across the ground and rubbing his hands.

"So good to see that you've made it here alive. I must say, I was beginning to worry. We were expecting you days ago. I was afraid outlaws may have gotten the better of you." He giggled. "Her Grace awaits you and wishes to see you immediately." He paused. "But not you." He looked to Gendry and Arya. "Ser Gendry Waters, I presume? My, the resemblance is uncanny. I am Lord Varys." He bowed.

"The eunuch. I've heard about you." Gendry was emotionless.

"Yes, it would seem everyone who has heard of me has also heard of what's not between my legs. Men are so often preoccupied with what is or is not between someone's legs. And you must be the lost Stark girl." He looked Arya up and down. "A woman grown and still wearing boy's clothes, but even that does not detract from your beauty."

Arya managed a pained smile, "Thank you."

"Ser Loras and Ser Lady Brienne have matters to attend to with Her Grace in the small council chamber. I will show the both of you to your quarters." With that, he ushered them away.

As Loras and Brienne walked to the small council chamber, he noticed that she seemed nervous. "Now it is you that is feeling anxious over an audience with Her Grace?"

"It is not Her Grace that makes me anxious." She snapped.

"Oh, Brienne. After all this time he still makes you sweat, does he?" He grinned at her, but she did not respond.

They arrived to find Daenerys and Tyrion, a flagon of wine between them. "What happened to your nose, Ser Loras?" Tyrion raised his cup. "It looks almost as hideous as mine."

"The Stark girl had her way with him." Brienne smiled.

"But she is with you, yes? You brought both of them safely?" Daenerys wasted no time.

"Yes." Brienne nodded. They took their time explaining what had transpired since arriving at the inn. Daenerys listened intently.

When they finished, Daenerys seemed pleased. Tyrion, however, had not been able to contain his laughter since hearing of their first confrontation with Arya. "Please, Ser Loras, tell me again how it was she managed break your nose." Dany smiled with him and Loras found it difficult to keep his composure.

"That is not important, Lord Tyrion. I am certain the good ser went easy on her." Dany gave Loras a warm smile. "But you are sure that the girl is no danger?"

"Yes, Your Grace. If she still intended to kill Gendry she would have done so by now. I do not think it likely she would have intervened when we were attacked by the outlaws if she wanted him dead. They might not have been able to take all three of us, but by their numbers alone we would have likely suffered more than a bolt."

Dany nodded. "We will have a maester tend to your wound as soon as our business here is done." The conversation turned more casual. "Ser Lady, I wished to see you participate in the tourney but I will not expect it considering your injury. Ser Loras, I will, however, expect your participation. We need as many good fighters as possible. I want no one thinking this event is boring."

Loras frowned. "As you wish, Your Grace."

"What troubles you, Ser?" Tyrion smirked. "If Ser Lady Brienne isn't participating then you have nothing to fear. I hear she's the only one that can best you. She and the Stark girl, that is."

"The only fear I've ever had died along with Renly."

"I am glad to hear it." Tyrion refilled his cup. "I don't mean to keep Ser Lady Brienne waiting any longer to see a maester. Shall we send for the others?"

Dany nodded. "Yes. Loras, find Varys and have him bring them here when they are ready. Tyrion, are you sure you want to be here for this?"

He looked down into his cup and swirled it, thinking. "I wouldn't say that I don't _want _to be here to see her but I can't imagine I'd be of much use in her presence."

Dany placed a hand on his shoulder. "That is fine. Find Ser Barristan and send him here." She looked back to her knights. "You are dismissed."


	17. Chapter 17, Daenerys

It had been more than an hour since she'd been left alone. She was more anxious than she should be, she knew. She drained her cup and refilled it. If Ser Barristan was right, she could wed the bastard and have the realm wrapped around her finger. It was the most obvious choice as she couldn't likely split the boy in two and seat him in both Dragonstone and Storm's End. But she did not want to marry anyone, especially not the bastard son of the man who'd taken so much from her.

She wasn't entirely sure she could look past that. Forgiveness was not something that came easily to her, or so she thought. Ser Barristan had assured her otherwise, pointing out all the lords she had pardoned after taking the Iron Throne. That was different, she felt. Yes, most of them had sided against the Targaryens during the Usurper's uprising but it was the Usurper himself who carried the most blame.

Aside from all of that, she would not be able to give him an heir. She had not bled in years and the maesters seemed certain she would never again have a child. The grief had nearly killed her when she'd learned that. There would be no true Targaryen heir. She was the last and she could not bring another into the world. _If only the Stark bastard had survived. Then, then our bloodline could continue. _Her first thought was that the gods were cruel, but in her heart she knew that none of them were real.

There were too many gods in too many lands for _all _of them to be real. It only made sense that none of them existed. And if they did exist, she owed them nothing. Where had they been when her family was murdered? Where had they been when she lost Drogo and her child? Everything she had accomplished in her life had been wholly hers. She was as much a god as any god had a right to be.

A knock on her door stirred her from her thoughts. "Enter."

Ser Barristan walked in and smiled. She returned it, but knew that he only smiled when he was trying to comfort her. Likely her face was flushed from wine. He sat next to her in the seat previously occupied by Tyrion. "Your Grace, you should not worry. Nothing is final until you say it is so. I only ask that you meet the boy. He need not know of our plans until you are ready."

"He knows-" Dany hiccupped, "He knows that he will be legitimized. Loras told him. He expects I will find him a wife and place him in Dragonstone."

"Good. At the very least we will do that."

"But what purpose is there in marrying him myself if I cannot bear children? It will please the people for a time but will look suspicious when I do not give him an heir. They will realize that I only wed him to gain their favor." She stared into her cup.

"Highborns seldom wed for anything else. If the gods are good you will bleed again."

"The gods are not good. Do not patronize me."

"I did not mean to. I only meant-" He was interrupted by another knock on the door. "You may enter."

With Lord Varys in tow, Gendry and Arya arrived. Varys bowed and exited immediately. Gendry bowed and Arya gave the worst curtsy Dany had ever seen. She had often wondered what the Usurper looked like. If Gendry and Edric Storm truly resembled him, he was not anything like she had pictured in her mind. They were both freshly bathed, Gendry in a green velvet tunic with the sigil of House Baratheon on his breast, Arya wearing a dirty brown tunic with no sigil at all. He was very handsome with his deep blue eyes and mop of black hair, a man grown but his face was youthful, even honest looking. And Arya... She had always been told that Sansa was the fairer sister, but Arya was beautiful in her own way. Her steely gray eyes cut into Dany like Valyrian steel through bread, sending a shiver down her spine. She collected herself.

"Please, have a seat." Dany beckoned them. "Ser Gendry, I understand you are aware of why I've brought you here." He nodded. She wasted no time having both of them swear fealty to her before becoming more genial. They were apparently anxious and she offered them wine to ease their nerves. "You are both most welcome here. Please, relax. There is no reason to be nervous." She had Ser Barristan pour them both a cup of wine.

"Ser, Her Grace will formally legitimize you at the feast following the tourney before all the lords and ladies of Westeros." Gendry exhaled wearily. "You are not pleased with this?"

"I am just a blacksmith. I know nothing of lords and castles and the like. Surely you could find someone better suited for that."

"There is no one else." Dany sat forward. "You are the last known living Baratheon. It will not matter what you know and what you do not. The people will take one look at you and know who your father is." She paused. "Or so I'm told. No matter, this decision is not for you to make. Wherever I seat you, a forge will not be far away and if that is what you're comfortable doing you may do it. No one will tell you otherwise."

Gendry winced but conceded. "Yes, Your Grace."

"Can you read? Do you know numbers?" Dany strummed her fingers on the table.

He shook his head. "I learned a few letters and words in the Brotherhood, just enough that I could understand written commands. I learned numbers when I 'prenticed here in King's Landing."

"That is good. Do not fret, ser. We will find someone to teach you how to read and write."

Gendry looked confused. "You don't mean to find me a wife who would do that for me?"

Dany laughed. "Well, yes, I could. But I do not mean to force you into a marriage just yet. I will not burden you with more than you can carry. You will learn to speak properly, how to conduct yourself as a lord, how to carry yourself. It will take time, but I will have you prepared."

"Pardon, Your Grace, but why did you call me here?" Arya queried impatiently. Few were bold in Dany's presence but Arya appeared to be one of them.

Dany looked at her and smiled. "There is someone I would like you to meet. Ser Barristan, go find what is taking Varys so long." He had only just made it to his feet when another knock came at the door. Dany called them in and Varys entered with Sansa.

She spoke as she started to curtsy, "Your Grace," but stopped short as her eyes came to rest on her sister. "Arya?" Her chest heaved with emotion. Arya sat frozen in place but managed a slight nod. Sansa began to sob as she ran towards her sister and embraced her, crying profusely. "Oh, Arya! I thought you were dead. I thought they'd killed you along with Mum and Robb.

Arya began to cry as well as she returned her sister's embrace. "I'm so sorry, Sansa. I'm so sorry I left."

They did not speak for a moment, simply clinging to one another and weeping tears of joy. "I knew it wasn't you. I knew you would never marry anyone."

Arya laughed between sobs. For the next half hour the sisters talked and wept and laughed as they caught up on the seven years since they'd last seen each other. Dany watched and listened eagerly, wondering what it might be like to have a sister or at least a sibling that she truly loved. She couldn't stop herself from crying as they talked. Even Gendry's eyes were moist.

"After the tourney you must come with me to the Vale. It's so beautiful there, Arya. Not like Winterfell, but the mountains are far more beautiful than you would believe. You can stay for as long as you like."

Varys interjected. "I do not think that would be wise, my sweet." The sisters looked at him with blank expressions. "You have left an order of assassins that do not take desertion lightly." He looked Arya in her eyes. "It would be best if you stayed here for the time being until we are sure that your safety is guaranteed. There is no safer place in Westeros than in the Keep."

Dany nodded in approval. "I am very sorry, my dear, but he is right."

Gendry looked almost relieved. His gaze never tore from Arya.

"Besides, much greater things than mountains await you in King's Landing." Varys giggled. "For this is where kings and queens alike are made. You belong here."


	18. Chapter 18, Gendry

_**A/N: Well, this chapter ran a bit longer than I intended and a lot of it feels poorly written to me (even by my low standards, lol) but whatever. I'm hoping that those who are still reading this story are willing to overlook my crappy moments. Anyway, thank you so much to all of you who are reading and reviewing. Hope you like it! Cheers!**_

Gendry walked with Ser Barristan to the Tower of the Hand, feeling light-headed. He'd indulged himself in wine during his and Arya's audience with Queen Daenerys and it was only now he realized how much. He felt it likely his head would be swimming even if he'd had only water to drink given the thoughts at war in his head.

"I would assume this is your first time in The Red Keep, Ser Gendry?" Ser Barristan attempted conversation. Gendry only nodded. "I will give you a tour someday soon if you'd like. Until then if you need anything just ask a servant or a Gold Cloak. All are aware of who you are. Should that fail my office and quarters are at the top of the tower. I am rarely found elsewhere, save with Her Grace. I think you will find the Tower of the Hand much more peaceful than Maegor's Holdfast. True, some may find it lonely but I much prefer it to the clamor."

He and Arya had both been given quarters in the Tower of the Hand. Of this, Gendry was grateful. Normally the Hand's family would have taken residence there but Varys had informed them that Ser Barristan was disinclined to invite any of his surviving relatives. She would only be a flight of stairs away from him. If he'd felt five years ago that she was his only friend it couldn't be any truer now. He'd been birthed and raised in King's Landing and though the city still felt vaguely familiar even after so many years, everything about the Red Keep was entirely foreign to him.

The way people spoke and carried themselves, the way they dressed, the lavish decorations and architecture, all of it made him feel he didn't belong. And it was so _clean._ He was accustomed to dirt, soot and smoke. Though he was freshly bathed he still felt dirty and found himself wary to touch anything. He'd even been afraid to sit during his audience with the queen for fear of tarnishing the chair.

But thinking of Arya brought him comfort. This was the kind of world and life she'd always known and he never dreamed it might be so terrifying. He'd only been in the Keep's walls for a few hours and already he was thinking of fleeing… but that would mean leaving her. After Queen Daenerys had dismissed them her sister Sansa had ushered her off somewhere to spend some time alone. He wondered where they might be and when she would return.

After he and Ser Barristan entered the tower and began ascending the steps Gendry quickly found it necessary to keep a hand on the wall for balance. There were steps everywhere in the Red Keep. _With so much wine and so many bloody steps you'd think regicide wouldn't be as difficult as it's made out to be. _When they finally reached Gendry's quarters, Ser Barristan informed him that Ser Loras would be by later to measure him for armor.

"Thank you for the opportunity, ser, but I don't care for glory. I'd rather watch the melee than break an arm or a leg."

Ser Barristan appeared disappointed but did not press the subject. "As you wish. Regardless, remain here until Ser Loras sees you. Afterwards you may explore the Keep as you see fit, but do not leave the grounds unaccompanied. That would be unwise."

Gendry nodded. Ser Barristan turned and left and Gendry closed his door before looking around his quarters. When he'd arrived and bathed before seeing the queen he hadn't been given much opportunity to take in his surroundings with the servants fussing over him. He'd never seen such a living space for one person. It was larger and more spacious than he needed with beautiful furniture. His nightstand alone was probably worth more gold than he'd ever seen and the featherbed was so plush he wondered how he'd ever manage to sleep on it. Nonetheless, he was feeling quite drunk and sat down on it, sinking. _Maybe it isn't so bad. _He lay back and stretched, looking up at the ceiling.

Before long he began to doze off but his eyes opened again at a soft knock on his door. He got up, finding it was much more difficult to get out of a bed comfortable as this than the straw beds he'd always slept on, crossed the room and opened the heavy wooden door to find Arya on the other side. In a dress. And make-up. With her hair done up. He knew from past experience not to gawk or laugh, though he desperately wanted to, and instead invited her in being careful not to smile.

"Would you like some wine?" He offered.

"Yes, please." She was clearly frustrated, frowning.

He crossed to the large wooden table with extravagant carvings and designs by the hearth and picked one of the flagons off of it, pouring them both a cup and pulling out a chair for her before seating himself. She sat and drained the cup immediately, slamming it down on the table and refilling it. He tried to ignore how beautiful she looked. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She looked at him with a fierceness he'd seldom seen in her eyes. "I swear by the Seven I don't know how I ever kept myself from killing my sister." She took a long swallow before continuing. "We're laughing and talking in her chamber and then all of a sudden she's saying how dreadful I look in my clothes and that she can't believe I actually went to see _the queen_ looking like that, insisting I try on some of her dresses. Of course, I declined but then her handmaidens descended on me like buzzards and started cooing about this piece of jewelry or that hairstyle or how a blue dress, no the green, no the _red satin_ one might bring out my eyes. And she kept on about how her little sister is all grown up and that I need to look like a lady." She took another drink, barely swallowing before resuming her rant. "They made me try on twelve, Gendry. _Twelve dresses and twice as many shoes._

"I thought it would never end. And once they'd finally settled on this ugly violet one and these ghastly slippers they started pulling and twisting my hair, arguing about what to do with it and what style might suit my face. And then while two of them began what felt like tearing my hair from its roots the others started poking at the pores on my face saying they looked large as my freckles. With their brushes and pencils I thought they were trying to paint a mural on my cheeks and lips. When they finally finished _molesting_ me they stood me up in front of a mirror and I could've sworn I was looking at one of Sansa's dolls from when she was a girl." She groaned. "I don't understand why it is that women care so much about being attractive to men. _Men _never do anything to make themselves beautiful. Seven Hells, some women even _like _when they look rough and disheveled. But no, women must be pretty. It's so unfair." She dropped her head to the table with an exasperated sigh.

He couldn't stop it. It started as only a smile but soon turned to laughter.

She looked up at him incredulously. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's just…" He knew it would anger her but she did look very beautiful and he felt he should acknowledge it. "It's just you're completely the opposite of every other woman I've met." He paused and smiled kindly. "And you do look very nice."

She stared at him a moment, blinking. "You're as stupid as my sister." She finished her cup and set it down quietly, her face softening. "But I know she only means well. It has been so long since we've seen each other. I should've expected she'd pull something like that." She became somber. "But I'd forgotten."

Gendry leaned forward and looked her in her eyes. "And now you'll remember again."

She smiled weakly. "Yes. She'll never again catch me off guard. I'm much more comfortable in something like what you're wearing."

He said it without thinking. "Dress or tunic, you'd be beautiful in almost anything."

She threw her head back laughing. "You wouldn't catch me dead in anything with a stag on it." His heart dropped. "But it does look good on you." That was a small consolation. "And I can't smell you from here." She smiled.

"I can smell you. Your sister must have doused you in perfume." He grinned.

"Yes, she put it places I never knew existed." They both laughed at that. She leaned forward to refill his cup and then made a twisted face, sniffing. She got up and crossed over to him, leaning over to sniff at him. Her close proximity and breath on his neck made his stomach turn in a queerly pleasant way. She looked him in his face. "You smell _good _Gendry."

He felt himself blush and he glanced down, away from her eyes, only to find his landing on the tops of her bosom. It was all he could do to breathe. "You um… you should-"

"Are you staring at my breasts?" She stood up with a shocked smile, her mouth half open, and shoved him. "You _were!" _

He tried to play it off as best he could. It was not the first time his eyes had been caught where they didn't belong. He grinned widely, "Well, you put them right in front of me!" He made a mock bow. "I'm very sorry, m'lady, I shan't ever do it again."

She laughed and shoved him again. "Do not call me that. It's 'my lady' if you're going to pass as something other than a peasant."

"Yes, _my lady."_

She grimaced. "Don't… don't call me that either."

"You're confusing me now, Arya. What am I to call you? _Your Grace?" _He teased.

She whirled around and crossed to the door, opened it, and turned back to him. "Now you mean to insult me." She grinned. "I'll see you at the feast tomorrow, Gendry."

"I won't see you at the tourney?"

"No. I won't be going."

His heart sank again. "I was hoping you might accompany me."

She looked at him quizzically. "Why would I do that?"

_Why?! Is she serious?_ He stammered out the words, "Because… you're the only friend I have here."

He could read guilt on her face. "I'm sorry, Gendry. You will see me not long after, I promise, but there is something I must do tomorrow. Have a good evening." She smiled and left.

_What could she possibly be doing tomorrow? _He picked up the flagon to refill his cup and found it nearly empty so he drained it and reached for another. Nothing was making sense to him and he felt overwhelmed by everything that was happening, but the most difficult part was Arya. He'd never felt worthy of her but soon he might. She was so beautiful, so unique, intelligent, wild and fun, and she made him feel differently than any other girl ever had. And she wasn't a girl anymore.

He rubbed his forehead in frustration. _I wonder if she'll ever feel about me how I feel about her. _He didn't know that he loved her, didn't truly know what love really was, but he knew that he wanted to be around her. He wanted to hear her laugh and see her smile and call him stupid and shove him. Now that she was back in his life he felt almost like a child again. Being in her presence made him feel… happy. If the queen would truly let him choose a wife he'd want no one other than her.

But would she have him? Did she _want _him? She enjoyed his company nearly as much as he enjoyed hers, that was obvious, but she didn't care for titles and castles and featherbeds. It seemed ironic that, as a boy, he'd envied the little runt Edric Dayne when he'd ridden beside her and they'd talked and laughed. He'd never hated himself so much for being a bastard. Now he would be a lord and it still wouldn't be enough for Arya. _She probably doesn't see me like that anyway. To her, I'm just a childhood friend._

"You're drunk." Gendry looked up to find Loras at the door with a look of judgment on his face. A servant stood behind him toting a very large bag. "We'll make a highborn out of you yet, Lord Gendry."

"I'm not a lord yet." Gendry sulked.

"You will be soon enough, become accustomed to it. Now, stand and cheer up. I have a very special set of armor for you if it fits." Loras crossed to him and began to examine his torso, feeling his arms and the width of his chest. "You're nearly the same height, a bit taller actually, but you're much more heavily muscled. It may be snug but I think it will work." Loras turned to the servant, "Show him."

With some difficulty, the boy lifted the bag onto the table and carefully laid it out before opening it to reveal one of the most beautiful sets of armor Gendry had ever seen. It was a gorgeous emerald with the sigil of House Baratheon. With wide eyes, Gendry ran his hand down the breastplate, tracing the designs and admiring the fine work. "It's magnificent."

"It was Renly's." He did not miss the note of sadness in Loras' voice. "I've kept it since he died and never intended to give it away or have it melted down. It's something of great sentimental value." His breath caught. "But I think it would be right for you to inherit it. You're his last relative and you resemble him so." He looked at Gendry and studied his face for a moment before continuing. "When you wear it tomorrow it will surely cause a fuss. Renly was loved by all and they will easily love you as well."

Gendry shook his head and stood back. "I thank you, ser. It's very kind of you, truly, but I won't be participating in the melee tomorrow. I just don't feel up to it."

"I'm afraid that you will. Don't worry, I'll be fighting as well and I'll make sure that you aren't hurt. Additionally, Brienne and I have been scheming and we've worked up a bit of a scandal." He grinned shrewdly. "King Renly's ghost won't be the only surprise tomorrow." He laughed. "Your friend Arya will be fighting as well. And you don't mean to leave her in a raging mob with only _me_ to protect her, do you?"

Gendry's jaw dropped. "_Arya_ will be fighting?"

"Yes, Lord Gendry, as a mystery knight of course. But it will surely thrill Her Grace as well as the crowd. I'm sure you know how the melees work. They start out with groups banding together and fighting others until the numbers on the field are whittled down to just a few at which time they turn on each other. I'm confident that you, Arya, and I would fare very well together but we'll also have Ser Jaime Lannister filling in for Ser Lady Brienne. I dare say we'll be unstoppable. And won't it be interesting to see which one of us ends up victorious?"

His reply seemed obvious to him. "Of course I'll fight if for no other reason than to protect her."

Loras laughed and placed a hand on Gendry's shoulder, smiling. "Don't fool yourself. It is _you _that will need protection."


	19. Chapter 19, Brienne

_**A/N: Okay, originally I intended to pussy out of describing the melee and just have Brienne recall the key moments and whatnot but your comments seemed to expect that I would describe it, so I tried. I really tried. Twenty-fourish beers later (in three separate sittings), here is the result. Describing fights is tough for me. Like, I'd-rather-step-on-a-Lego-barefoot tough. I have virtually no knowledge of how to actually fight in real life, never mind how people might have fought in the middle ages or in Martin's universe. Anyway, I kind of envision Arya just being a fucking badass and I tried to leave most of the melee up to your imagination. So whatever, I hope you like this. Thanks again to all that are reading, commenting, following and favoriting. You keep me on my toes! XD CHEERS!**_

_**Update 03/18/13: Bronn removed. OPPS. Thx tsevca!**_

As she had no more desire for glory, she was relieved that her injury gave her a good reason not to take part in the melee. But Jaime's participation in her stead worried her. He was older than the average contestant and had not been seen fighting by anyone save her and a few others since losing his right hand. If he were to be ousted quickly, or at all, honestly, it could be seen as an embarrassment to the Queensguard. Despite her pleas he insisted on fighting anyway. He maintained that it would do him good and he assured her that with Loras watching out for him he would be fine.

That worried her as well. Loras had his hands full attempting to ensure the relative safety of not only Jaime, but Gendry and Arya as well. She'd seen Arya in action and was most confident in her abilities but Gendry concerned her. However, her fears were now being abated as she watched from the queen's royal box with Daenerys, Sansa, Tyrion, and Ser Barristan.

"He was a blacksmith, you say?" Tyrion asked Brienne. She nodded. "I'm not surprised. He's swinging that hammer about like it's made of feathers."

It was true, Gendry told Loras he'd never used a hammer in battle before but the Knight of Flowers had insisted he try it out. He'd taken to it well enough, already having felled over half a dozen men. It was Arya, however, who was stealing the show. In a dull steel set of light armor with no sigil and her small stature, she was at first easy to overlook. She had opted to fight with two shortswords and had been wowing and dazzling the crowd with her unique style of fighting. She was extremely fast and as she spun and jumped her blades were a blur. It appeared she preferred not to press an all-out attack, rather confusing her enemy with her blindingly quick movements and disarming them before knocking them off balance and eliciting a yield.

Brienne looked over to Sansa who was watching nervously. She noticed that she had taken Tyrion's hand and in both of hers and was squeezing his fingers purple. He didn't seem to mind, however, smiling like the drunken fool he was. She and Loras had intended to keep Arya's involvement a secret from everyone, but Sansa and Daenerys had demanded to know where she was and why she couldn't watch the melee with her. Sansa was horrified at the news her sister would be fighting, but Daenerys had smiled, wide-eyed and eager to see her wield a sword. Her Grace was surely not disappointed, as she was wielding two. The crowd let out a gasp and Brienne turned her attention back to the melee to see a knight with purple adornments pinning Jaime to the ground. He was yielding, but seemed unharmed.

"Who is that, the knight with the purple sigil on his shield?" Dany leaned over to Brienne.

She cleared her throat of anger and replied. "That is Lord Edric Dayne of Starfall. He is no knight at all." This was sure to end poorly. She'd _told _him this would happen but as always Jaime hadn't listened. Dany only nodded and smiled.

With Jaime now out, seven were left. _Six, _Brienne corrected herself as Arya effortlessly sent a broadsword flying from a knight's hands and brought him to his knees with a blow to his abdomen. Loras, Gendry, Arya, Edric, another mystery knight and a sixth in black armor whose sigil Brienne did not recognize remained. With Loras, Gendry and Arya clearly fighting together, the other three squared off against them.

Quickly enough they paired off with Loras battling Edric, Arya against the mystery knight, and Gendry fighting the third in black. Gendry was struggling against the unknown knight. _He is unaccustomed to the weight of such armor. He has likely never held a shield in his life and he has been exerting too much energy flailing that damned hammer around. He is fatigued. What was Loras thinking? _He had also taken more blows than Brienne had cared to count but was still standing, still fighting. _Ser Gendry is nothing if not tough._

Arya, on the other hand, seemed to be toying with the mystery knight. Brienne could swear she heard her laughing. In her years she'd seen very few warriors wield two swords at once and the crowd was clearly behind her and her dazzling display of battle prowess. She wondered what their reaction might be when she was revealed to be female.

She turned her attention to Loras who appeared to be taunting Edric Dayne. If Loras had any fault, it was surely arrogance. He'd advance one pace, let Edric have two, and then advance again with reckless abandon. They continued that way for a time before Edric caught on to Loras' timing and deflected a downward stroke, turning and giving Loras' chin the full force of his shoulder. Loras stumbled and the crowd gasped as Edric assaulted him relentlessly until he fell and yielded with Edric's blade pressed against the space between his breastplate and helmet.

Yes, she was certain this would end poorly.

With Loras now defeated and Gendry still losing ground to the knight in black, Edric turned his attention to Arya. The two stood on either side of her and attacked simultaneously in a near practiced manner. However, it was as if Arya could sense their movements and she managed to parry their blows with a fluidity that Brienne envied. She had the crowd on their feet, cheering.

She met a powerful swing from Edric and it shattered the sword in her left hand inches above the hilt, following through to strike her and knocking her backwards. She recovered quickly and threw the remains at the mystery knight with such force that the sharp shards went through his armor and stuck in his ribcage. He went down to gasps from from the crowd. Now with only one blade, she focused her attention on Edric, switching her remaining sword to her left hand and adopting her water dancer's stance.

Meanwhile, Gendry was stubbornly refusing to be defeated. After deflecting a series of blows from the knight in black with his shield, he charged forward and knocked him back with it, bringing his hammer squarely down on the knight's helm. The black knight crumpled and lay motionless on the ground. Gendry stood for a moment, catching his breath and then turning his attention to Arya and Edric.

In less than the blink of an eye, Arya managed to remove Edri's sword from his grasp. _She must teach me how to do that. _She advanced on him, apparently speaking given her gestures, and he raised his hands, yielding. The roar from the crowd was deafening. Edric walked off as Gendry and Arya took their time circling each other.

"What are they doing? Why are they just walking about?" Sansa looked terrified as she spoke.

"They are talking. Do not fret, my dear, your sister will quickly finish him." Tyrion nearly laughed as he attempted to console her.

Whatever Gendry said to Arya, it clearly enraged her. Without warning she advanced on him, twirling and striking everywhere his shield and hammer were absent. Brienne felt sorry for him. He was attempting to parry her blows with his shield or his hammer but she was too fast. It amazed her that he was still standing when Arya took a step back to reassess her assault. Gendry was hunched over, visibly pained, but he took the opportunity to come at her. With pitiful ease, she struck his hand and his hammer left his graft. He dropped his shield and simply walked towards her with a determined gait.

Arya stepped backwards a few paces and leapt at him, bringing her sword down towards his head. The crowd erupted in cries of astonishment as Gendry brought his hands up and caught the blade, going down on one knee under the force of the strike. A real sword would have sliced through his hands but the dulled blade of a tourney melee allowed them to stay intact. He grasped her sword and pulled him towards her with a jerk. She stumbled forward and he knocked her down, pinning her to the ground under the weight of him, his hands now at her neck. She struggled for a time, fruitlessly flailing and beating at his chest and head with her fists before roar from the crowd was deafening. Gendry released her, stood, and offered a hand to help her up. Arya knocked it away and got to her feet on her own.

Beside Brienne, Daenerys rose and raise a hand, silencing the cacophony. "Remove your helms." Dany commanded. Gendry and Arya obeyed. The crowd gasped as Arya took off her helmet and threw it to the ground in frustration, her face red either from exertion or anger, or both. "Kneel, Ser Gendry of the Hollow Hill." Gendry knelt. Arya bowed her head. "Now, rise, Lord Gendry Baratheon." He stood as the people remained silent in shock.

The next few moments became chaotic. Deanerys continued to speak, but her words were lost even to Brienne as the crowd began to shout and cry. They poured onto the melee grounds, swarming the two of them.

Tyrion turned to Daenerys, "I'll send someone to fetch them." He walked over to a Gold Cloak, spoke with him briefly and returned, "My, how exciting! Sansa, don't cry, your sister is an _amazing _fighter. You Starks are just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Sansa laughed and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just relieved is all. You don't know what it's like to have a sister that you love."

Tyrion nodded in agreement. "That's true. Your Grace, was this event to your satisfaction?"

Dany could not hide her delight. She grinned from ear to ear. "I have seen many men fight, but none like Arya. How is it she learned to do that? She fights like battle is a dance."

Sansa smiled at her. "She cannot dance, I assure you, though she did take lessons when we were here with father during the last days of The Usurper's reign." Brienne laughed to herself. Lady Sansa never misspoke. It would have been easy for her to simply refer to the dead regent as King Robert, but it would likely have ushered in a swift change of Dany's mood. "I suppose it's possible she got better, but I doubt it. Arya never cared for beautiful things, only the things she thought were fun."

Dany sat back in content. "And she has made something she considers 'fun' beautiful. She is fascinating. How better to honor you, Ser Barristan, than with a melee such as this? Tonight at your commencement feast we will hold you in the highest regards, but we will also honor the melee victor and the valiant efforts of our dear Lady Arya. I envy you, Ser Barristan."

Barristan shook off the praise. "There is no greater honor for me than to be of service to you, Your Grace." For once, he smiled at her.

Dany returned his smile, crossed to him, dropped to her knees and hugged him. He looked surprised at first, but awkwardly returned her bear hug. "I seldom see you smile, Ser. Am I safe to assume that means you are pleased?" She clasped his hands in hers as he grinned and nodded.

She quickly gave him another hug and stood as Tyrion exclaimed, "Brother! Why do you look so exhausted? I'd been told you were to fight today but I confess I didn't notice if you did."

Jaime approached them and smirked. "Perhaps if you'd stood in your seat you would have seen. With so many heads before you it would have been difficult for you to see me in my spot on the ground." He looked to Brienne and winked. Her heart fluttered and whatever anger she had melted away. At least he was alright.

"You fought very bravely, Ser Jaime." Sansa, dutiful as ever, attempted to save his dignity. "Lord Edric Dayne surprised all of us, I think. Your defeat was honorable."

"Yes, honor, _that's _the best part of defeat." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "It's what I'll be remembered for."

Brienne reassured him. "You felled a dozen men before the knight in purple defeated you. There is honor in that as well."

He gave her a knowing smile. "At least someone noticed."

The Gold Cloak returned with Gendry, Arya and Loras in tow. Sansa rushed to her sister and embraced her. "Oh, I was so worried about you, Arya!" Arya grimaced her sister fussed over her. She pulled back and looked on Arya with adoration. "You're the only sister I have, you know. Father and mother would be so proud of you." She began to weep. "So proud."

At the mention of her parents, Arya seemed closed to tears herself. Loras saved her. "Yes, she gave quite the show. You must share your secrets with us, Lady Arya. Your beauty is surpassed only by your skill with swords."

Daenerys cooed, "You are magnificent, my lady. If I didn't know better I'd ask you to join my Queensguard." Arya's face lit up at the mention of it.

"I… I would be honored, Your Grace. Truly, I-"

"No. I have much greater things in store for you." Dany smiled at her warmly. "And Lord Gendry Baratheon." She turned her attention to the victor. "I confess, I expect you've made many gamblers very unhappy this day."

"He cheated!" Arya interjected, looking at Gendry with scorn. "If my blade had been sharp he'd be laying on the ground dying at this moment."

Brienne laughed as she remembered her victory in King Renly's melee. "You can talk with Ser Loras about cheaters. Unfortunately, a melee is nothing like a real battle. Cunning takes precedence before all else."

Jaime gave Gendry a pat on his back. "Well fought, _my lord._ I must say, you took quite a beating out there. What I've heard about you is true. You really are stubborn as a bull."

"There will be time for more praise this evening." Dany was positively beaming. "I'm sure the four of you must be tired. Go, clean yourselves and rest. You have a well-deserved feast to prepare for."

The group exchanged a few last words before they began on their separate ways. Brienne gave a last look to Ser Jaime, looking unexpectedly happy, and led Daenerys away with Ser Barristan. They came to their horses and headed towards the Red Keep and Maegor's Holdfast.

They rode in silence for a time before Ser Barristan broke the silence. "Your Grace, I think you need not wed the boy anymore. The Seven Kingdoms once again have a Baratheon heir to dote on. This tourney will be remembered for generations to come and we have not even begun the joust."

"I must marry someone, Ser Barristan, you know this." Dany was somber. "I cannot give the realm a Targaryen heir. It is possible, however, that I might give the people something else they would want."

"I do not follow." Ser Barristan was genuinely confused. Brienne kept her silence.

Dany continued. "You will. We will not discuss it now. I do not take pleasure in such a topic. For the time being we will enjoy the moment and let the people have their fun. I've had a dream, and while it is not wholly pleasant, I am certain it will come true. My dreams always come true."


	20. Chapter 20, Arya

_**A/N: Gah. Finally finished this chapter. It ran a little long... oops. Anyway, I wanted to post this chapter and the next at the same time because it picks up where this one leaves off (from Dany's perspective) but I just have no freaking idea when I'll be able to finish it. Hopefully by the weekend. Anyway, thanks everyone!**_

She and Gendry walked to the Tower of the Hand in silence. She was still fuming. Occasionally she'd glance up to him, finding that stupid grin emblazoned on his face. When they reached the tower, she stopped short of entering and turned to him. "Stop smiling. You cheated and you know it."

His smile only grew larger. "What do you mean?"

"You _know _what I mean, stupid. You can't catch a blade with your hands in a real battle."

"You can if it's dull as yours was." He extended his right hand to show her. "You broke it if it's any consolation." His hand was already purple from his palm down to his wrist and it trembled as he held it out for her.

She carefully took it in her hands and gingerly stroked it with her fingers. "You will need to see the Grand Maester if you want it to heal right." She felt guilty for harming him so but still felt he deserved it.

Gendry withdrew his hand suddenly and stammered. "Yes, I'll… I'll do that right away." He studied her. "Everyone knows you should have won. I don't know what came over me. I should have yielded when I lost my hammer."

"Yes," Arya pointedly agreed, "you should have." She recalled when he threw down his shield and walked towards her so confidently. Just thinking of it quickened her breath. She'd felt a dozen feelings at once that she did not entirely understand. In a fit of frustration, she'd brought her sword down on him with all her might, but he'd caught it. He'd caught it _with his hands._ She'd been so shocked that she'd hesitated and he'd thrown her down and held her there. No one had ever dominated her like that before…

"Are you angry with me?" The sincere look in his eyes made her want to tell him no, but she decided to be truthful.

"Of course I am. What do you expect?"

"Nothing else, honestly." He laughed and brought his left hand up to wipe at her cheek. "You're very dirty, but you're pretty like this."

She stared into his eyes as he left his hand on her face. He was dirty as well, dirty like when she'd watched him work in the smithy at Harrenhal. She didn't quite know what to do with the emotions that coursed through her in that moment. Bringing her hand up to his, she held it there for a moment before removing it with a jerk. "Only a blacksmith would find a dirty girl pretty." She turned and entered the tower, Gendry following.

He called after her, "And what if a lord finds you pretty?"

She stopped on the stairs and turned to face him. He was grinning at her in a way that made her want to blush, feeling every bit like her sister, but she wouldn't have it. "Then he is wasting his time."

"Even Lord Edric Dayne?" Gendry ascended two steps so they were at eye-level, looking at her intently now.

"What do you care if _Edric Dayne _finds me pretty?" _What is he getting at?_

"I don't." Gendry cleared his throat and pulled at his collar, glancing around. "But what if he did?"

An incredulous smile crept onto her face. "Would my big brother Ser Gendry of Bull-Headed Hill knock his teeth in if he did?"

Gendry cocked his head to the side and grinned. "That's _Lord _Gendry of Bull-Headed Hill. And I might." He made a mock bow. "If m'lady commanded it."

She considered shoving him, but given the state of his hand she figured she'd injured him enough for the day as a tumble down the stairs could seriously harm him. As she turned and resumed her ascent, she muttered, "You are too much, _Lord _Gendry."

"What, not even a punch to the ribs?" He skipped a few stairs and fell in beside her.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, any excuse for her highness to touch me."

She gave his armor a quick jab with her elbow as they reached his door. "There. A little something to remember me by." She smiled up at him. "When you've cleaned yourself and seen the maester, come get me. I'm dreading this feast of our good queen's and I'd like to have entertaining company."

"Does this mean you've forgiven me?"

She bit her lip. "If you behave yourself this evening, I may consider it."

"Very well." He drew in a deep breath and exhaled with a contented smile. She started to leave but he stopped her. "Arya," Concern crossed his face and he looked to the ground. "I truly hate to ask but… do you think you could help me remove my armor?" He glanced down to his swollen hand.

She was taken aback by the petition. "You can't find a servant to help you with that?"

Gendry looked around, "Have you seen any?"

She hadn't. Most of them had probably been given leave to attend the melee. She sighed, "I don't think it's appropriate for a lady, but-"

He cut her off. "Suddenly you care what's appropriate for a lady?" He had her there. With a roll of her eyes she pushed open his door and led him inside.

She wasted no time helping him out of his armor. If she were discovered in his quarters with him in any state of undress it would appear scandalous. It didn't truly matter to her, but she didn't wish to bring her sister grief. She prudently helped him out of the emerald set, still beautiful despite the numerous dents and scratches, being especially careful not to harm his broken hand. They did not speak.

When she finally helped him out of his shirt, she gasped at the myriad bruises covering his torso. His muscular, well-defined torso. "Did you use your shield at all?" She asked as she ran her fingers down his side, examining a cluster of bruises. He seemed to shudder under her light touch. She forced herself to stop.

"I tried." He laughed uncomfortably. "Thank you, I believe I've got it from here." The servants had left a large basin of cool water beside the hearth. He walked over to it and picked up a cloth, drenching and wringing it out with his good hand. She watched as his muscles rippled beneath his skin, his abdomen flexing, his biceps and triceps straining, and his pectoral muscles bulging.

"Alright, well…" Her voice trailed off before she found it again, her eyes fixated on his chest. "Come and get me after you see the maester." She made herself look at his face. He nodded, and she exited.

Her mind was a flurry of thoughts as she raced to her quarters. She hastily removed her armor and clothing, immersing herself in the refreshingly cool water in her basin. She exhaled and planted her face in her hands. He irked her. It wasn't enough that she didn't know what she was doing back in Westeros, but now she sensed an unusual allure to Gendry.

_You're not a girl anymore. Of course you feel drawn to the only man you've trusted with your life since Yoren. _That wasn't wholly true, she'd trusted others, but that was different. She'd trusted them because she'd had no other choice, but she'd trusted Gendry because he'd earned it. He'd figured out that she was a girl and kept her secret. He'd done what he could to protect her, kept her warm during cold nights, given her food and gone hungry himself, even saved her from a potential rapist by claiming to be her sibling.

She remembered how angry he'd been with her that night. The truth of the matter was that he was very much like a brother to her. When she'd called him "big brother" only moments before she'd said it in earnest. He reminded her of Jon in many ways, but even Jon wasn't truly her brother. While in Braavos, she'd overheard a group of Westerosi traders talking about him shortly after his death. At first she'd refused to believe it, but the word had spread and soon she heard many talking about "the Targaryen Bastard" as they called him.

She felt an urge to cry but stifled it. Jon was dead and tears would not bring him back. She still had Bran and Rickon, and although neither had attended the tourney, her sister had assured her they would visit as soon as they were able. Arya hoped that Queen Daenerys would allow her to leave before then. She did not want to stay here any longer than she had to.

But then, there was Gendry. Frustrated, she cleared her mind of thoughts, washed, dried, and crossed to the wardrobe Sansa had given her. Half a dozen dresses, all of them quite beautiful, hung before her. At the end was the spare tunic she'd brought with her and she considered wearing it, but for a reason beyond her comprehension she desired to look nice this evening. She finally settled on an ivory gown with a low-cut top and golden embroidery.

She slipped it on, finding it a bit spacious, but it fit her well enough. She crossed to her vanity and sat, looking at herself in the mirror. She hadn't sat at a vanity in at least six years. Picking up a brush, she began removing the tangles from her hair, now down past her shoulders. She put it up in a bun at first, but it looked too simple. She then attempted to braid it but the braids looked uneven and sloppy. Exasperated, she pulled the braids loose and decided to leave it down, brushing it out once more. It would have to do.

Now came the truly difficult part. She looked about the various oils and colors her sister had given her, not having a clue what to do with most of them. _There, perfume, that's easy. _She dabbed some on her neck and her wrists, even putting a dab in between her breasts. Next she attempted to apply make-up. After what seemed an hour, she realized that she looked hideous, almost like a fool in motley. She hurried to the basin and washed all of it off.

A knock at her door startled her. "Arya? Are you ready?" Gendry called from the other side of it. "We're late, the feast should be starting soon." She hadn't even realized that night had fallen.

"Yes, one moment." She quickly dried her face and hurried toward the door, nearly tripping on her dress in her haste. She flung the door open to find Gendry in another green tunic, this one much nicer than the last, and his hand bandaged. The colors made the blue of his eyes stand out like sapphires. "How good of you to finally come, Lord Gendry." She tried to make herself sound as if she'd been waiting on him. "Is that what you're wearing?" She feigned disappointment.

He looked down at his clothes with a blank expression and shrugged. "I thought it was nice."

She laughed at him. "It is nice. You look every bit a lord. I'm sure Her Grace will be pleased."

"Could you help me with my boots? I managed to get everything else, but-" She knelt down and fastened his buckles before he could finish. "Thank you." When she stood back up he only stared at her.

"What? What is it? Is something wrong?" She brought her hands up to her face. _I must not have gotten all that damned make-up off. _She turned and fled to her vanity to check herself in the mirror.

"Arya, no, nothing's wrong. What's gotten into you? You look lovely. _Very lovely_." His emphasis on the last two words nearly made her believe it. "I just didn't expect-"

"Didn't expect what?" she asked curtly. "That I wouldn't look _stupid?"_ She hadn't intended to scorn him, but he'd caused her to make a fool of herself dashing to her vanity like that.

Gendry sighed and crossed to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Calm yourself. _I'm_ supposed to be the one nervous about this evening. I have no idea what to do or what to say, how to carry myself and a dozen other things. You look beautiful, Arya. You have nothing to worry about."

Ridden with guilt, she nodded. "Thank you, Gendry. Let's go then."

As they descended out of the Tower of the Hand and made their way to the Great Hall, Arya tried to give Gendry as much advice as she could think of. What to do, what to say, what _not _to do and what not to say, how to greet someone properly and most importantly how to be polite about not knowing who someone was or what they might be talking about.

When they reached the magnificent doors they could hear music, talking and laughter coming from within. "Stand up straight." He made a feeble attempt. She rolled her eyes and held out her arm. "Just take my arm and I'll try to handle everything. Smile, be courteous, and above all else don't say anything stupid."

He exhaled nervously but took her arm with confidence, finally straightening and standing a full three inches taller. "Whatever you do, please don't leave me to fend for myself."

They entered and Arya winced as she heard their names loudly announced, "Lord Gendry Baratheon and Lady Arya Stark!" She'd forgotten about that. All eyes turned to them, most smiling jovially but a few looking quite shocked. Thankfully, Sansa magically appeared at her side, gushing.

"The two of you look _wonderful! _Oh, Arya, I knew that dress would suit you. I was hoping you'd wear it. Come, your seats are by the queen." Sansa was radiant in a Lannister red and gold gown with her hair in a simple but elegant northern style. She led them to their seats, Gendry next to Ser Barristan who sat to the right of Queen Daenerys and Arya beside him. Sansa gave her a quick hug before hurrying back to place beside Tyrion who sat left of Danaerys.

Quickly enough, servants brought them food and wine. They both drank thirstily. The seat to Arya's right was vacant at present with Loras seated beyond it. She leaned forward, examining the others at their table. _Where are Brienne and Jaime?_ Daenerys caught her gaze, smiled, and raised her cup. Arya returned the gesture.

Shortly afterward Daenerys silenced the room and recognized the honored guests with thunderous applause for both Ser Barristan and Gendry. Her speech was brief and soon the Great Hall was filled once again with laughter and music. A plethora of lords and ladies approached Gendry and herself, praising them for their performance in the melee and wasting their breath approving of Gendry's lordship and welcoming Arya's return to the public eye. After each one of them, he would inquire as to who they were and where they were from with her providing as much information as possible though she only recognized a third of them. They feasted and drank, Arya finding that the evening was not going as horribly as she'd expected until the seat next to her was no longer vacant.

"Lady Arya Stark, I must apologize for my absence. When I saw you enter your beauty took my breath away and I confess I've had to work up the courage to come sit next to you." Edric Dayne had grown his hair long and his near violet eyes glistened along with his charming smile. He was wearing a soft purple tunic with a silver trim, a sword with a fallen star, his house sigil, embroidered in gray on the breast. "When I'd heard Arya Stark had married that Bolton bastard I feared the worst but refused to believe it was true."

She politely smiled. "Thank you, Edric. You flatter me. No, I would have never married that man."

"I would hope not. His reputation was despicable, but to think you might have wed a bastard… I truly pitied you." Beside her, Gendry loudly cleared his throat fetching Edric's attention. "And Lord Gendry _Baratheon_ no less. It is a pleasure, _ser._ Congratulations on your victory. You are lucky our Lady Arya did not have anything to throw at you."

Gendry placed his hand on the small of her back as he leaned forward. She fought off a shiver. "And you are lucky Lady Arya spared you my hammer. You fought well, my lord. Perhaps someday soon I may have the pleasure of fighting you myself."

Edric was beaming. "I pray it comes sooner than later." He directed his words to Arya, "Have you heard the whispers? It seems many look at the two of you and see a striking resemblance to King Robert and Lyanna Stark… before His Grace became fat, of course."

"Yes," Arya felt increasingly uncomfortable. "I've been compared to Lyanna before. And Gendry does resemble King Robert. It doesn't surprise me."

Edric chuckled darkly and spoke to Gendry again. "You are fortunate there aren't any Targaryen men left to steal her away from you." His words hung before a fat lord from a lesser house Arya did not remember came to congratulate Gendry. Edric took the opportunity to engage her, "I cannot express to you how grateful I am that you are alive and well. The girl I met so many years ago has blossomed into a gorgeous young woman. Have you given any thought to marriage?"

She sipped her wine. "No, I haven't. I do not intend to marry."

"That's a shame. I dare say you could make almost any man happy." He rested his hand on hers. "You should come visit me in Starfall after the tourney. With spring upon us Dorne is very lovely as of late. The Summer Sea is warm and inviting and the sands on its beaches are like none you've ever seen. I'm certain you would enjoy it there."

She smiled widely. "That does sound very nice. Perhaps I will consider visiting. Gendry," She removed her hand from underneath Edric's and touched Gendry's arm, "doesn't it sound lovely? Do you think we might find the opportunity to go there once our business with Queen Daenerys is finished?"

Gendry looked at her, perplexed, and nodded. "Yes, my lady. If it please you I would be happy to accompany you." She nearly laughed at the stupid grin that spread across his face.

"Good, it is settled then." Edric did not sound pleased. "I look forward to it. But of course, I understand it may be some time before you can come. Her Grace surely has matters to settle with you, my lady, as you have been gone for so very long. You were in Braavos, is that right?"

"Yes, it is."

"And what were you doing there for all those years?"

Arya had not yet considered what she might tell people regarding her time in Braavos. It would not do to be honest about it. "I worked in a brothel." Beside her, she heard Gendry choke on his wine and Edric's eyes widened in shock. She allowed Edric to absorb the information before continuing, "Not as a whore, of course. That wouldn't be very lady-like, would it?"

"What did you do there, then?" Edric seemed skeptical.

"I cleaned the floors, washed linens and clothes, even cooked for the girls on occasion. I rather enjoyed it if truth be told. I certainly preferred it to the black cells or, even worse, wasting away in some castle bearing children for a pompous lord."

"That's very interesting, my lady. I'm sure you have many fascinating tales. You must share them with me sometime."

"Arya!" Her sister, drunk, intervened. "I meant to introduce you to Lord Edric but I see the two of you are getting along well already." She was rife with giddiness. "He made quite an impression on me before I remarried Tyrion." She looked to Edric. "If I didn't feel it was wrong that our first marriage had been annulled I very well could be living in Dorne. I trust you aren't without understanding?"

"Of course, my Lady Sansa."

"It pleases me to hear it. Arya, look, there are so many people dancing. You and Edric should take the floor."

If Arya had brought her knife she may have slit her sister's throat. She shook her head and smiled gently, "I cannot dance, Sansa, you know this. I do not have your grace."

Edric leaned in, "Your grace on the battlefield betrays you, Arya." He stood and took her hand. "Come, I will teach you. I'm confident you'll learn quickly."

She looked over to Gendry to save her but Sansa insisted, "Yes, Arya. You had dancing lessons with that Braavosi instructor many years past. Surely you remember something of it. Dancing is like riding a horse, once you learn you never truly forget."

She relented and followed Edric to the floor. He pulled her close and began to lead, "See? You're a natural. It isn't so difficult, is it?"

She sighed, "No, I suppose it isn't." In Braavos, she'd learned very well how to dance. They danced for a time, chatting awkwardly, and to her surprise she found she was enjoying herself. However, she knew what he had in mind and decided to frank. "Edric, if you are thinking of asking for my hand in marriage, don't. You are handsome and charming and I'm sure you would make a wonderful husband, but I have come to treasure my freedom. I will not marry you or anyone else for quite some time."

He smiled warmly at her. "That is understandable. But rest assured, my lady, I would never expect you to give up your freedom. If you did not wish to stay confined within my castle you would have my blessing to leave at your discretion. And I am in no hurry to have children. We are both young, Arya. There will be ample time for things of that nature when we are both ready."

She started to respond, but Gendry cut in. "Excuse me, my lord, but you can't expect to dance with her all evening." Arya was surprised at how politely his words came across.

"Of course, Lord Gendry." Edric bowed with a scowl. "She is yours."

Gendry took her hand and began to lead. He was a very good dancer. "Gendry, where did you learn to dance?" She asked, shocked.

"Willow's sister Jeyne taught me." His face darkened. "Before she died."

"I'm sorry to hear that. About Jeyne, I mean." He gave a forced smile and nodded. "Are there any other talents you've been hiding from me?"

He grinned. "My needlework isn't so bad." She laughed loudly and slapped his chest.

"You're acting every bit a lord, you can dance, and you even know how to use a needle. You're just full of surprises this evening, aren't you?"

He suddenly stopped dancing, pulled her closer and leaned down, kissing her gently. At first she was so stunned she only stood there, but she promptly relaxed and returned it. The kiss was brief but she felt a heat running through her veins, her breath short and her heart violently pulsing in her chest as she looked into eyes. He did not say anything, only smiling as they resumed their dance. _Yes, he is certainly full of surprises._


	21. Chapter 21, Daenerys

_**A/N: Soooo sorry it took so long to post this. I finally got a chance to finish it this evening. I work overnights and I usually have a few hours to burn but things have been hectic up until tonight. So here, 3 AM, it's done. :P Anyway, about this chapter... First, Tyrion's rant on the gods is a paraphrased quote from one of my idols, Richard Dawkins. The original quote is good stuff. :D Second... I want SO BADLY to delve more into Dany's thoughts, but I can't just yet without giving too much away. Blah. Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews! Enjoy!**_

_**Update: Also, a recent review has me concerned. Gendry is not an asshole. I thought I'd put Willow (mostly) to rest in previous chapters, but in case I haven't, I've decided to make the next chapter from Gendry's POV instead of Loras to clear up any doubt. Gendry isn't a douche! Lol. Not yet at least. And that's only if I ever write part two of this story :D and I'm not yet near the end of the first. Anyway, I ask again for your pardons as this is the first fanfic and first (extracurricular) piece of fiction I've ever written. As much as my pride pains to admit it, I care what you think. Don't give up on me just yet! ;) And PLEASE let me know what you think. I'm far enough into this that I won't give up on it until it's finished and at the very least I can (hopefully) appease my readers. Drama does not exist if everything is peachy. Well, I've got to sleep as it's almost 5 PM and I have to work tonight. The next chapter should be up within a couple days, though with any luck it will be finished this evening. A HUGE THANKS to everyone that has validated my self-worth by reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing. My brain thanks you for the dopamine. Cheers!**_

She sipped her wine, watching.

"Now that's interesting, wouldn't you agree?" Tyrion leaned over to Dany.

"Yes, it is." Jealousy was not the correct word for what she felt.

"I was under the impression he'd proposed to a girl just before leaving the inn with Brienne and Loras. Isn't that what they told you?"

"Mm-hmm." She took another sip.

"And it seems that now he's taken a liking to my wife's sister. Of course, I can't entirely blame him for it. Those Stark women are vivacious, no? And very beautiful."

She sighed. "Yes, they are."

"Still, beauty is no reason for a man to make a whore of himself, I should know. There are far better reasons to go wenching. Being married to a beautiful woman that won't have you, for one. Shall I speak with him?"

"She is no wench. And no, that will not be necessary. The last thing I need is a husband who frequents brothels more than he does his castle." She grinned at him.

"Dany, you words harm me. Surely that can't be the _last _thing you need."

"You know what I mean, Tyrion." She laughed.

He rapped his hands on the table. "Where is my dear wife, anyway? She has a bad habit of running off when my head is turned." He looked about. "Ah, there, dancing with Loras. I'll never understand what she sees in him, always going on about how brave and pretty he is and how it's such a waste that he cares not for women. Contrarily, I'm quite thankful for that. If it weren't for men like him there would be fewer women for men like me." His voice became thick with sarcasm, "You know, wealthy with a famous last name. That's what women _truly _want, isn't it?"

She gave him a wry smile. "The Tyrells are a very wealthy and famous family."

"Oh, so that's not enough, is it? I suppose that explains my current predicament, then. My, the gods are cruel." He took a long drink. "All of them, everywhere. Put them together in a room and you have a group of the most jealous, petty, unjust, unforgiving, vindictive, bloodthirsty, genocidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent control-freaks you've ever seen. They even put _my sister _to shame."

"You seem to have put some thought into that one." Dany raised her cup in toast.

"Perhaps." He touched his cup to hers and they drank. "But Dany, returning to our previous topic of conversation, I feel obligated to voice my concern that our recently legitimized bastard may have more of his father in him than we previously thought. I do not wish for him to make a fool of you."

She was careful not to sound as angry as the mention of Robert made her, "Neither do I. That is why I have tasked you with educating him. You are smart, Tyrion, one of the smartest I have ever known. I trust you will train him wisely."

"Yes, I will do my best. As I've told you, I believe my talents are better delegated elsewhere but I understand how important it is to you that the boy learn well, and learn quickly." When Dany first told him her plans for Gendry's tutelage he'd been outraged and insulted at being given such a "menial chore" as he'd called it.

Ser Barristan returned to his seat beside her. "Have you had your fill of dancing already?" Dany asked him.

"I believe I have energy for one last dance in a moment, but a drink first." He reached for a flagon of wine but Dany stopped him and refilled his cup herself. "Thank you, Your Grace."

She made a sour face at him. "Barristan, if I wasn't so fond of you I'd have run out of patience for your unnecessary courtesies long ago." He very seldom called her "Dany" as she wished he would.

"I pray you find it in your heart to forgive an old man his habits." He looked at her with a kindness she'd only ever felt from he and Drogo.

"Of course, but please understand your privilege and do not abuse it." She smiled and placed her hand on his wrist, squeezing gently.

Tyrion, never failing to take advantage of an opportunity to drink, interjected. "I would like to propose a toast to our beautiful queen and her very much appreciated capacity for forgiveness."

"And to Ser Barristan for his stalwart loyalty and devotion." Dany added.

"And to Tyrion for procuring this splendid Dornish wine." Barristan gave Tyrion a rare grin.

"Nothing but the best for my favorite Queen and Hand."

After knocking their cups and drinking Barristan asked, "Dany, if it please you I would ask that you join me for my last dance." He held out his hand.

"Gladly. I am most honored." She beamed, taking his hand. "I have grown weary of sitting. Tyrion, please excuse us."

Tyrion nodded and waved them away. "I will be here when you return, though I won't guarantee my consciousness."

When she stood, she found herself dizzy from wine but Barristan carefully helped her to the floor. At times, she felt guilty for agreeing to relieve him of his position as captain of her Queensguard, but he had requested it. He'd insisted that he was too old, too frail, and that another would be better suited for the position. As they danced, she wondered to herself why as he was certainly still agile and alert, though she could sense that he was tired. There was also a noticeable sadness in his eyes.

"What troubles you?" she asked as they moved about the floor.

He gave a sad smile. "It is nothing, Your Grace."

She knew better. "You are thinking of Lady Ashara, are you not?"

His expression darkened. "You know me well. Forgive me. Your eyes never fail to remind me of her, and with Edric here…"

She shook her head, silencing him. "There is nothing to forgive. I understand what it feels like to lose someone you love more than life itself." He looked near tears. "Please, do all that you can to enjoy this evening. It is yours."

"As you command." His smile was forced. The continued dancing for a moment longer before he stopped. "Thank you, Dany. Your company has made this conventional evening a splendid one, but I must retire. I am not as young as I once was."

Loras approached them. "Your Grace, I see you have finally taken to dancing. Would you do me the honor?" He bowed.

"Yes, Ser Loras, the honor would be mine." She turned back to Barristan, embracing him and whispering into his ear, "Do not allow your memories to plague you. There is a reason the past is gone." She released him.

Barristan bowed, "Thank you, Your Grace. If you have need of me I will be in my tower." With that, he excused himself.

Loras extended his hand and Dany took it, immediately questioning him. "You and Brienne told me that Lord Gendry proposed to a girl just before leaving with you, is that not correct?"

He was taken aback, perplexed, "Yes, I watched him do it. Is something wrong, Your Grace?"

She ignored his question. "And you believe he was sincere? He truly meant to marry her?"

Loras shook his head in confusion as he spoke. "I cannot say. He did appear to be sincere, yes, but perhaps you should ask Brienne if-"

"Brienne is not here." Her tone was sharp.

Loras struggled for his words, "I beg your pardons, Your Grace, but if you are asking if he still expects to wed the girl, no, I do not think he does." She began to feel guilty. Loras was not at fault for this. "May I ask why that is of any concern?"

She sighed. "It does not concern me, not truly. What does is his affinity for Lady Arya Stark." A pair of dancers bumped into them, instantly apologizing once realizing who they'd interrupted. Dany politely excused them, collecting her thoughts and calming herself. "Have you not noticed them?"

He glanced briefly at them and then back to Dany. "I have, but I did not wish to make more of it than need be. They were companions years ago, when they thought to escape the Lannisters' grasp. They were obviously close at one time, though it has been years since."

"I do not mean to interrogate you, Loras, but I am troubled. May I assume that you did not see Lord Gendry kiss Lady Arya?"

"No, I did not. I've been too busy entertaining Lady Sansa." His face screwed up in thought. "What kind of kiss?"

"Brief, though they seemed to enjoy it."

He looked back at them, still dancing. Without turning his head back to Dany he asked, "Would they be so bold, though? Again, it's clear they care for one another. Perhaps they are simply affectionate. There is no need to impetuously jump to conclusions about the nature of their relationship."

"I am not being impetuous." She was, she knew. "Regardless, would you mind cutting in? Be subtle about it, but question her. I want to know if she truly desires him in that way. I will catechize Lord Gendry."

Loras' grin and tone were charmingly patronizing. "As you wish, Your Grace. Please be gentle with him. He may be intimidating in stature but he has a rather tender heart."

"Do not fret, Loras. I mean him no harm." She gestured towards the two of them a dozen paces away. "Shall we?" She imagined the way she felt now was how most little girls feel when they play games with boys, innocently manipulating them into getting what they want. As they danced they moved closer and closer to Arya and Gendry before Daenerys finally bumped into Gendry a bit more forcefully than she'd intended.

He looked nearly terrified. "Your Grace, I am so sorry, I did not see you there."

She did her best to blush. "Do not worry, it was my fault." She placed a hand on his chest, attempting to ease his trepidations. "I have not yet had the opportunity to formally congratulate the two of you on your performance in the melee. Lord Gendry, your victory was enthralling. I hear many gamblers lost a fortune betting against you. And Lady Arya," her throat caught as she spoke, "you are… your elegance in battle is like none I have ever seen. You honor your family with your talents."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Arya gave a pained curtsy. "You are too kind."

"Lord Gendry," Loras addressed him, "would you mind if I took the lady's hand? Surely you do not expect to retain her for the rest of the evening."

Disappointment was plain on Gendry's face. "No, not at all. I think it is time I rest anyway, I am still very sore from the beating I took during the melee."

"I am sure you can find the strength for one more dance, Lord Gendry." Dany smiled warmly, taking his good hand. "I promise I won't efface your vitality." She found his apprehension endearing.

He merely stood with his mouth open, his eyes shrieking fear, before stammering, "Absolutely. I… I would love to." He gave one last wistful glance to Arya before nervously placing his bandaged hand on the small of Dany's back and leading her.

They simply danced for a time, Dany smiling warmly and studying him, before he seemed to relax somewhat. She took the opportunity to engage him, "You look very handsome this evening, Gendry. I hope you've taken a liking to the wardrobe I've provided you. This color suits you well."

"Yes, Your Grace. I'm very grateful. It all still feels like a dream to me."

She shook her head. "Please, call me Dany. Formalities need not concern you when we are speaking alone."

"Yes, Your- Dany."

"I am not without sympathy for you. I cannot imagine what it must be like to suddenly learn you are expected to be an entirely different person."

His eyes softened, "I'm still the same person, just wearing nicer clothes. Your- Dany," He seemed afraid to look at her as he spoke, "I worry that I'll disappoint you. I don't know if I am capable of being a lord."

"You need not worry, Gendry. I only expect that you will do your best. I have ordered Tyrion to teach you all that you should know." She took a cautious breath. "And Lady Arya will help you as well. She will not be leaving until we are certain that her life is not in danger."

"What do you mean?"

"She was trained to be a Faceless Man. Varys tells us that her life will likely be in jeopardy-"

"That's not what I meant." Few had the audacity to interrupt her. She found it alluring. "You said that she will help me."

"I would advise you not to make a habit of interrupting your queen." She grinned at him. "But yes, I will ask her to assist Tyrion. The two of you are close, yes?" He paused and then slowly nodded. "Tyrion is not known for his patience. I would not have him leave you feeling inadequate as he surely would given his way with words."

With concern he asked, "Do you truly think she would agree to that?"

"Why would she not? She will not be given leave until I grant it."

"And what of your plans for her afterward?" She heard anxiety in his tone.

She shook her head, "I do not yet know. I have a few different things in mind, but I suppose it will depend on what she is willing to do." Gendry nodded, his brow furrowed as he intently thought about something. "What is on your mind?"

"If you send me to Storm's End I'll be expected to take a wife." He took a deep breath.

"And you intend to ask Lady Arya?"

"I've thought about it, yes." Half her suspicions were confirmed.

"Did you not ask a girl to marry you before coming here?"

He face contorted. "Yes, I did, but... Loras told me I'll be expected to marry a highborn."

"Did he?" Dany smiled shrewdly. "Well, he's right. You cannot marry anyone you please. Do you love her?"

"No." He shook his head with assurance.

"Do you love Arya?"

He took a long time to answer but finally replied, "I love her more than I have anyone else."

"And does she love you?"

He cleared his throat. "I don't know. Not like I love her. It makes no matter at present anyway. She despises being highborn as much as I despised being a bastard. The last thing she wants is a life in a castle. She's said half a dozen times that she won't marry anyone for a long while if at all, and most certainly not to a lord." When he wasn't smiling his face looked pouty anyway, but he looked positively distraught in this moment.

"If that is true, then perhaps we can persuade her otherwise." She stopped dancing and placed a hand on his cheek, smiling reassuringly and looking into his eyes. "Love is a very powerful motivator."


	22. Chapter 22, Gendry

It was late and most of the guests had already taken their leave, but some remained, still dancing, talking and drinking. His head was swimming and he had a slight headache from the wine, but he continued to drink anyway as he reflected on the events of the evening. Looking to Arya, who continued to dance with Loras, apparently engrossed in conversation, he recalled what happened after he'd kissed her.

"Lord Gendry, have you always wanted to be a eunuch?" she'd asked, grinning. He'd half expected she might hit or chastise him, but she'd _kissed him back._ Her question took him off guard and she'd quickly followed it up by saying "You're so stupid, there with your mouth hanging open like an aurochs." From there she'd immediately changed the subject to the feast and how ridiculous she felt it was, though she'd never stopped smiling. He'd simply gone along with it, grateful that she was at the least still dancing with him and seemed to be happy.

_What does she expect from me?_ And his talk with the queen only confused him further. She had been very kind and seemed to want to help him convince Arya to marry him, but how could she short of forcing her? Arya _did not _want to marry a lord, that much she'd made clear. Here he'd always hated his low birth, more so than ever after meeting Arya all those long years ago, and now he was a lord and apparently that still wasn't good enough. He sighed and drained his cup, slamming it back down on the table. Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, thinking.

"Do you plan to sit here all night or are you walking me back?" By her tone, Arya was clearly angry and he sat upright, startled.

"Sure, I'll walk you back." He looked up to her, confused. "Is everything alright?"

She huffed and crossed her arms. "Shut up." With that, she turned around and began walking briskly.

He warily got to his feet, steadying himself with his good hand on the table, and hurried after her. She was out the door and descending the steps to the courtyard before he caught her. "Arya." He reached out to catch her arm but she jerked it away.

She stopped and turned her head without looking at him. "Don't touch me." She resumed her gait, Gendry struggling to keep up.

_What in the seven hells is wrong with her? _"Arya, what is it? What ha-"

She spun around and pierced him with her gaze. "Do you make a habit of kissing girls? Tell me, how many have you kissed since coming back to King's Landing?"

He was perplexed. "What are you talking about? You're the only person I've kissed since-"

"Loras told me about Willow."

He dropped his arms to his side and sighed. "Yes, I kissed her. Only once, but-"

"You _proposed _to her." She looked furious enough to cry. "And then you have the gall to pretend she hardly existed, never bothering to even tell me about her. Then you kiss me like that, in front of everyone."

"I wouldn't have proposed to her if I'd known. Arya, I didn't love her like I…" he stopped himself. "I thought I'd never see you again."

She bit her lip and looked to the ground, picking at it with the toe of her shoe. "Why did you ask her to marry you, then?"

"I don't know. She loved me, Arya. She and her father were very good to me during my time with them. It broke my heart to see her so upset at my leaving. I didn't love her like she loved me, but I did care for her. I only wanted her to be happy." He stared at her, dreading what he might have to tell her. "Arya, you don't understand all that's happened since Clegane took you."

"I understand enough as I see it." A tear ran down her cheek. "I should have killed you." She turned and continued walking to the tower.

"Then kill me if it please you, my lady!" He called after her angrily. When she did not stop he continued after, keeping his distance until they neared the tower entrance. "Arya, stop. Arya!" He ran to catch up to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Arya, please…"

"What?" she asked without turning to him, ignoring the Gold Cloak standing guard at the door. "Did you forget to ask me to marry you?"

She was wearing down his patience, and the wine did not help. "Would it please you if I did?"

"Or perhaps you mean to ask me to warm your bed. Well, Lord Gendry, I am not like your friend from the inn." She turned to him, her face wet from crying. "You're just like your father. No, actually, you're worse. You're just a bastard sowing more bastards anywhere he can."

If she meant to hurt him, she was succeeding. If she meant to anger him, she was not failing at that either. Her words stung. "I am _not _like my father."

"Oh really?" She stared him down. "How many girls have you been with, then?"

"That is none of your-"

"It is my business if you meant to marry me. That is what you wanted, isn't it? You hoped I would accept your petition to wed me and spend the rest of my life on my back bearing children for a bastard blacksmith in Storm's End."

"Of course not." He was hurt and couldn't stop the words, "I would never expect you to do anything you didn't want to. Besides, you wouldn't have me anyway. You've changed, Arya Stark." He stepped closer to her, his gaze bearing down into her eyes. " Who would want to wed a bitter bitch who'd been so selfish as to forget everyone that ever cared about her?"

She slapped him, her breath quickening and her body shaking with emotion. "Take it back." She demanded, her tears flowing more freely now.

He rubbed his cheek and bowed to her. "Goodnight, m'lady." He walked passed her.

"_Take it back!"_ She shoved him and he stumbled into the door, stopping himself with his hands. A pang shot through his wrist but he ignored it and he threw the door open, beginning his ascent to his quarters. "Gendry, stop!" she sobbed. He ignored her. "_STOP THIS INSTANT!" _Her voice was so loud he was certain Ser Barristan had heard her.

He rounded to face her, his own tears coming now. "You think you're the only one who was affected by this war?"

"No, of course not." She fought through her tears. "Take it back, Gendry. You know it's not like that. You tried to forget me too."

The warmth from the moisture in his eyes contrasted with the cold on his cheeks. "I did not _try _to forget you. And I never did. I didn't understood my feelings for you until recently and I'm sorry if that's not good enough." He managed to retain his composure, his voice quavering, "But I never, ever, forgot you."

Her chest heaved. "Not even when you were fucking her?"

"Is that what this is about? You're jealous of your bastard blacksmith fucking other girls?"

"No." She sniffed and looked away from him, studying the wall for a time. "How many?"

"Does it matter?"

She returned her gaze to him. "Yes, it matters. _How many?_"

"Would you even believe me if I told you?"

Leaning her back against the wall, she quietly replied, "Yes."

He examined her expression for a moment before deciding to believe her. "Two."

Picking a bit of dirt from underneath one of her fingernails, she asked, "Who were they?"

He sat down on the steps. "The first was a whore."

She looked up to glare at him. "If you mean to differentiate yourself from your father, you aren't starting well. What was her name?"

Knowing she wouldn't like his answer, he dutifully replied, "I don't remember."

She leaned her head back against the wall. "Of course you don't." She stared at the ceiling now. "When?"

"Just before leaving for the Night's Watch. Tobho Mott informed me the day before that he would be sending me off. He didn't want me to die on the cold, bitter edge of the world without ever knowing a woman's warmth, I suppose, so he took me to a brothel that evening."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Arya, I was fifteen. Of course I enjoyed it."

She smiled at that. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised." The smile dissipated. "And who was the other?"

Suddenly, he felt sick to his stomach. "Arya, I'm very sorry. I'm not ready to discuss it with you. With anyone, for that matter." He rose to his feet and started up the stairs.

"Gendry," she said at first, following him. "Gendry!" He did not stop. "It was Willow, wasn't it? That's why you asked her to wed you." He ignored the question and continued up the stairs, stopping at his door. "Answer me."

"I don't want to talk about it, Arya. You don't understand."

"Then make me understand." She was livid.

He pushed open his door, avoiding her eyes. "I'll need a drink first." He crossed to his table and poured himself a cup.

"One for me, too." She sat opposite him and he obliged her, filling her cup to the top. When it was filled she drained half of it, setting it down and motioning him to refill it. As he did she softly spoke, "I don't blame you for it, Gendry. I just… I just want you to be forthright with me." He sat back and closed his eyes. "It was her, wasn't it?"

"No." Without opening his eyes he brought his cup to his lips and drank. He did not wish to have this conversation, and certainly not with her. "It was her sister." He kept his eyes closed and listened intently, but she made no sound. He opened them to look at her. She was staring into her cup, her expression blank. "Willow never knew."

"Jeyne, was it?" He nodded. "How many times?" She did not look up from her cup.

If she hadn't liked his previous answers, she was sure to dislike this one. "I don't know."

She gripped her cup so hard her knuckles turned white. "You don't know." She looked to him with ire, laughing ironically. "That many times?"

He shook his head in exasperation, "What do you want me to say, Arya? Not everyone can be like you and reject every advance."

"What makes you think I've rejected anyone?" She reclined and ran her finger around the lip of her cup, cocking her head to the side and speaking matter of factly. "Don't you know how freely the Braavosi love? Or are you stupid enough to think I'm still a maiden?" She smiled and leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table and viciously milking the words, "I am no maiden, Lord Gendry, but your naivety is understandable, given your low birth and lack of education. Here in Westeros, a girl's maidenhead is valued more than the maiden herself, but in Braavos a girl is worthless in the bedchamber unless she knows what she's doing." She grinned with satisfaction.

He couldn't fathom the rage that coursed through his veins. "You're lying." _She has to be lying…_

"Oh no, my lord." Her eyes were wicked and she spoke slowly. "I've only been with one man, but he was exquisitely handsome and well built, a lot like you actually, and he proved to be an excellent tutor." She accentuated her words. "His name was Remus. Many times he laid me in his bed and caressed my skin with his lips and tongue until I _begged_ him to take me. I'd kiss him passionately and whimper into his ears as he'd enter me, slowly at first, and dig my nails into his back as he moaned with the pleasure my body provided him. I'd clutch him and pull him deep inside me. He was a very, very big boy." She chuckled. "I'd stare into his eyes and watch them roll into the back of his head as he climaxed, his manhood pulsing within me as I reached my own, clenching his heat and relishing the warmth that filled me as waves of ecstasy left me breathless and yearning for more. Afterward we'd lay there and he'd whisper into my ear how amazing it felt to be one with me, to be inside me. He swore he'd never experienced such bliss."

Gendry felt he might vomit. The image of her with another man drove him mad but he remained still and whispered, "Get out."

She threw back her head, laughing. "Who is jealous now, my lord?"

He spoke more forcefully, "Get out. Now."

She met his stare and spoke with defiance, "No."

"You haven't tortured me enough?"

"Did you love her?" she looked frightened of his answer.

"Arya, it's complicated."

"Then take as much time as you need." Her voice shook. "I want to know, Gendry."

He leaned forward and put his head in his hand, speaking towards the table. "Towards the end of the war, just before Daenerys crossed the Narrow Sea, we had nearly two dozen orphans at the inn, mostly boys. At that time it was just Jeyne, Willow and me to take care of all of them. It was more than we could handle, we were all starving. So when a man from the Night's Watch came through one evening we allowed him to take all the boys with him to the Wall. Soon after Jeyne met a lady in a nearby town from some castle somewhere who had no children of her own and she took all the girls."

"What does this have to do with anything?" she asked impatiently.

He ignored the question. "After that it was very quiet and I think Jeyne found herself feeling lonely. One night I was asleep in the smithy and she woke me up. At first I thought something was wrong but she put her finger to my lips and… I don't know, Arya, it just happened."

"And it just kept happening, is that it?"

"Yes. It was difficult for her to sneak away from Willow, but one or two evenings every fortnight she'd come visit me. We continued on that way for nearly a year. During the day we'd act as if everything were normal, she didn't want Willow to know." He felt tears forming in his eyes once again. "And then all of a sudden she just stopped visiting me and began avoiding me as much as she could during the day. I didn't know what I'd done or what caused her to draw away from me." Taking a deep breath in a futile attempt to quell his emotions, he continued, "A few months later she'd gone off to look for herbs in the woods. When she didn't come back that evening Willow and I became worried. She always returned well before dark. A few men from the Brotherhood were there at the time, so at first light the next morning we set out to look for her."

His tears began to flow. "We found her a few miles away hanging from a tree. She'd been stripped, beaten and raped. They'd torn open her stomach and…" His sobs were so fierce he could hardly say it. "I'd gotten her with child. It was laying on the ground beneath her, a bloody clump in the grass. They'd killed her and they'd killed my child and I didn't even know." He cried profusely, barely able to breathe. Looking up to Arya, he saw tears streaming down her cheeks. "She never told me, she never…"

She got up and crossed to him, embracing him. He put his arms around her and cried into her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Gendry."

"It's my fault." He whimpered. "Before I'd always go with her when she'd forage but when she became distant I let her have her space. Jeyne and my child are dead and their blood is on my hands."

She shushed him and stroked the back of his head. "Don't blame yourself, Gendry. It's not your fault." He suddenly felt very ill and broke from her hold, running to the basin and vomiting from the wine or from emotion or both. Arya knelt beside him and rubbed his back. When he'd finished she took a rag and cleaned his face. She helped him up and led him to his bed, laying him down and dabbing his face with a moist cloth.

"You must think me pathetic. I'm sorry, Arya." He wiped at his eyes.

"There's no need." She lay down beside him and cradled his head with her right arm, planting a gentle kiss on his crown, and put the other around him.

When he opened his eyes the room would move vehemently around him so he kept them closed. He turned onto his side, melting into her, his tears slowly subsiding. Before long he fell asleep in her arms, his demons fading away.


	23. Chapter 23, Arya

_**A/N: Very sorry for the delay in posting. I've been sick again (six days now), went to the doc yesterday to find I have bronchitis, a sinus infection and ear infections in both ears... which explains why I haven't felt like being alive, much less writing. :P Anyway, I'm on antibiotics now and am feeling better. On a lighter note, I'm happy to announce that I now have a beta. A HUGE thanks to KyraAnnCoombes for her assistance! If you haven't read any of her stuff, you should go do that right freaking now (or after you finish this chapter, whichever). She's an extremely talented writer and I'm fortunate to have her help. :D Enjoy!**_

Rarely did she ever remember dreams after waking. She'd trained herself very well to forget, though perhaps not well enough, and as her eyes fluttered open she tried to retain the remnants of her father's face that only floated further away like snowflakes in a winter's gust the more she struggled to keep them. And then it was gone, just like so many the others. The few dreams she did remember were all of Jon, but they were peculiar. She could see him, hear him, touch him, but his face… she could never see his face. It was now difficult for her to remember it at all, even when she tried. In her dreams his face was blurred, almost a void, almost like when she would look at her reflection in still water and then disturb the surface.

She often wondered what that meant, but chose not to dwell on it. As far as she could tell the only dreams of hers that held any significance were her wolf dreams, but those were different. It was less like dreaming and more like co-consciousness, almost as if they shared the same skin. And it was so _real._ As real as…

Suddenly, she became aware of her surroundings. She was in Gendry's chamber, in his bed, still in the dress she'd worn to the feast the night before. His arm was draped across her torso, his bandaged hand just off the edge of the bed. She looked over to him and nearly jumped to find him looking directly at her, smiling.

"Bloody hells, Gendry!" she half shouted. "How long have you been staring at me?"

"Not long." he confessed. "I didn't mean to startle you, I just couldn't bear to wake you up." He gave her half a hug and grinned, "You look sort of... vulnerable when you're sleeping."

Something in his eyes made her feel simultaneously terrified and livid. _"Vulnerable?"_ She looked at him pointedly. _He means to provoke me…_

He caught the offense in her voice and attempted to back away from the comment. "Well, perhaps that wasn't the right word." He propped himself up on his elbow and withdrew his arm from around her. "I just meant that you looked innocent is all."

"So you don't think I'm innocent, is that it?" She smiled dangerously.

"Of course not. You're far too clever to retain any innocence… even if you are still a maiden."

She sat up. "I'm not a maiden."

He chuckled. "Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"You think I'm stupid enough to believe that story you told last night?"

"You are stupid. Stupid and bull-headed." Getting to her feet, she smoothed out her dress and began to cross to the door.

He laughed. "Arya, don't go. I'm flattered that you're jealous."

She stopped and whirled around to face him, her blood boiling. "_Jealous?!_ Of whom, may I ask? The whore that your master paid for? The girl that you proposed to and then left like she meant nothing? Of Jeyne, who-" The look in his eyes stopped her. "I have no reason to be jealous of anyone."

With a serious look, he nodded. "You're right. You don't." Though she wasn't sure why, his affirmation made her feel better. "If I could change the past I would, Arya. I thought I'd lost you forever. You were my best friend, you know. No one had ever trusted me with anything before, but you trusted me with your secret, with your life. Do you know how much that meant to me? I never stopped thinking about you. Ever." He scooted to the edge of the bed and put his feet on the floor, looking down at them.

"You should have." She stepped forward and he looked up. "When I left the Hound for dead I could've returned to you, but I didn't."

"I don't blame you." He fidgeted with the bandage on his hand. "But would you have done things differently knowing what you know now?"

She thought for a moment. "No." Gendry's shoulders moved with a sigh. "What choice did I have? If I'd gone back to you and the Brotherhood you would've ransomed me off to some relative I barely knew. Or worse, the Lannisters. If I'd stayed in Westeros I would have likely been discovered before long. And where would I have gone? I was more helpless than I'd like to admit. And I don't think I need to remind you what sometimes happens to defenseless young girls. It makes no difference, Gendry. What's done is done."

He made no movements. "And how long before you're gone from my life again?"

The right words evaded her. "Gendry…"

"There's no need. I understand completely. You have a family and a home. You have to forgive me, Arya, you're the only one I truly care for and you have many. As soon as the queen gives you leave you will go. It would be selfish of us to expect you to stay."

"Gendry, that doesn't mean that… 'us?' What do you mean, 'us?'"

He loudly exhaled and put his head in his hand. "The queen and I. She… she thought we might be able to persuade you."

"To stay?"

"Yes."

She crossed her arms. "Why would she want me to stay here? Is this what the two of you discussed last night?"

"Part of it, yes."

Anger began to take hold of her again. "And what were the other parts?"

He shook his head and stood, walking to the table and pouring himself a cup of wine. "It doesn't matter, Arya. She won't force you. _I_ won't force you."

"Force me to stay, you mean?"

His back to her, he took a long swallow from his cup and loudly set it back down. "She asked me if I love you." Her heart raced. Her fingers and toes tingled. It felt as if blood rushed both to and from her face at once and she became slightly dizzy. "And she asked if you love me."

Trembling, she crossed to the bed and sat down. "Why would she ask you that?" She knew it was a stupid question.

He turned half way around to look at her. "You kissed me back, Arya."

She stared at him, mouth agape. The thoughts and emotions that coursed through her were too much. Examining her dress and tracing a finger across the design on the hem, she quietly replied, "It was a feast, Gendry. We were both drunk. What was I supposed to do?"

He faced her and scowled, sounding near to tears. "Is that all it was then? You, Arya Stark, were only being courteous?"

"Why did _you_ kiss _me,_ Gendry, in front of everyone like that? We haven't seen each other in years and already you're acting as if I'd fall at your feet just like all those other girls."

He shouted. "Isn't it obvious why I kissed you?! Or has my _stupidity_ rubbed off on you? You tell me you don't want to marry and then throw a tantrum when you learn I proposed to someone else. You tell me it doesn't matter if I've been with anyone but demand to know who they are and how often, if I enjoyed it and if I loved them." He grabbed his cup from the table and took another drink before gesturing to her with it. "I look at you and see a woman grown but you act like more of a child than the one I knew so long ago. You _know_ why I kissed you, Arya. Don't insult yourself by asking me that.

"And we both know why you kissed me back. You did it because you _wanted_ to kiss me." He set the cup back on the table and stepped closer to her. "You did it because you'd dreamed of it, because you wanted to know what it was like to feel my lips against yours. And that's not all you've dreamed of, no." He knelt down in front of her and placed his hands on her legs. She couldn't move, lost in his eyes. "You've dreamed of me laying you down and tearing off your clothes. You've yearned for my breath on your skin, my body pressed to yours and my hands-"

A pounding on the door interrupted him. "Arya, I know you're in there! Open the door this instant!" Her sister's voice caused her stomach to drop. Gendry immediately stood, looking to Arya for direction. She shook her head at him, wide-eyed. "Arya, _now!_" She pounded again. Arya took a breath, gave a warning glance to Gendry, and went to the door, opening it cautiously. Sansa walked past Arya without looking at her and immediately crossed to Gendry, slapping him. "You filthy bastard. How_ dare_ you dishonor my sister!" She slapped him again.

"Sansa, _stop it!_ He didn't dishonor me. We didn't do anything!"

"How can you expect me to believe that? You spent the night in his quarters, Arya." She gestured to her dress. "Look, you haven't even changed. Oh, this is dreadful." She put her hands to her face and walked to the window.

"He was sick and I fell asleep beside him, that's all."

Sansa turned, "Truly?" She looked to Gendry. "You didn't take her maidenhead?"

He rubbed his cheek. "No. I wouldn't do that." He gave Arya a wicked half-smile. "Besides, she's not a maiden anyway."

Sansa went pale as snow. "What do you mean, '_not a maiden?_'"

Arya could've killed him. She carefully replied, "Sansa, he's only jesting."

"Why would he jest about something like that?" Her gaze cut into Arya like Valyrian steel.

She searched for the words, "I told him I wasn't a maiden to ward off his advances." She felt confident her sister would accept that answer. "He hasn't been a lord for a day and already he's asking for my hand in marriage."

Sansa seemed unsure what to do with that information. She looked between the two of them before finding a response, "Lord Gendry, I apologize for striking you. However, it would be best if you left your courtships to... more suitable ladies. Arya, I've come to invite you to break your fast with myself, Tyrion, Varys, and Edric in the Great Hall. It would be best if you put on a clean dress first." Sansa raised her head and began crossing to the door.

Arya stopped her. "Why would Edric be there?" She already knew the answer.

Sansa turned on her. "He is a much more suitable match for you than our good Lord Gendry. Also, he fancies you. I'm certain the two of you would be very happy together. We will discuss your betrothal over breakfast."

Arya began to protest but Gendry beat her to it. "_Betrothal?_ Do you think so little of your sister? What if she does not want to marry Lord Edric? Would you force her despite her wishes?"

"Of course not, and I think very highly of my sister." Sansa approached Gendry, fire in her voice. "I would never force her to marry anyone, however she must someday join our house with another. It is only what is expected of highborn ladies. I only mean to help her." She spoke with disgust, "Unlike you, she doesn't go around proposing to every pretty face that crosses her path."

"No, Sansa. I will not marry him. He is vain and rude. And you will not decide what I will do with my life. _If_ I ever marry at all it will be at my own discretion. I will never be you, Sansa. "

Sansa gave a curt nod. "Very well. I'm sure Mother would be very proud."

Arya ignored the jibe. "Gendry is a better man than Edric will ever be. He is kind, humble and you would be fortunate to have him as a brother. If I wish to marry Gendry or any other bastard I will. No one will stop me."

Sansa smiled. "No one? You are so naive, my dear sister." She made for the door, stopping short of exiting. "I assume you won't be coming to feast with us. Tyrion would want me to let you know that you are to be assisting Ser Loras with Lord Gendry's education. Queen Daenerys has tasked Tyrion with this, but he is much too busy to devote so much time to it, therefore Ser Loras will meet with the both of you daily, an hour after first light, in Ser Barristan's study. Try not to drive the good knight mad." She left, slamming the door behind her.

Gendry looked at Arya, his stupid grin plastered on his face. "Did you mean all of that, what you said about me?"

She avoided his gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about. And why are you smiling like that?" She frowned at him.

"No reason." He scratched the back of his head, looking down at the floor. "Would you like to raid the kitchens with me? I could eat an aurochs."

She considered it a moment. _Now he's _never_ going to let it go..._ As nonchalantly as possible, she replied, "I suppose. Allow me to bathe and change our of this abhorrent dress. I've never missed a tunic so much in my life."

"Very well." He laughed. "Come get me when you're ready." She nodded but didn't move, perplexed by the queer look he was giving her. Awkwardly, he crossed to her and put his hand beneath her chin, lifting her head, and began to lower his. She panicked.

Quickly turning away and heading for the door, she attempted to sound casual as she spoke. "Alright then. I'll return soon." Her heart racing, she leapt up the stairs to her chamber. She closed her door and immediately crossed to the table, grabbing a flagon and pouring herself a generous cup of wine. She took three large gulps and set it down, catching her breath.

"A girl becomes a woman." Her blood went cold at the sound of his voice behind her. "What a shame, that she accomplishes so much and gives it all away. She is most unwise for this."

She stared straight ahead. "Have you come to kill me?"

"Presumption is not becoming of a woman grown. A man cannot kill a woman if he knows her, she knows this. Nay, a man wishes to extend a courtesy."

"And what courtesy would that be?" Her hands trembled.

"There is time still for a woman to forget her life and return to where she belongs. Her training is not yet complete and there is still much to learn."

"No. This is where I belong. Isn't that why I was sent to kill Lord Gendry? Izembaro knew that I could not forget, that I would never forget."

She heard him sigh. "A man cannot force a woman. If she wishes to remain astray, that is her prerogative. However, lack of conviction angers the Red God. Her life will not be pleasant."

"You would threaten me?"

"Threaten? No. This one only does the Red God's bidding."

"And what does your Red God bid of you?" He did not respond. "Jaqen?" She turned around to find the room empty. Trembling, she picked up her cup and drained it, nearly choking on something hard. She spat it out into her hand, a familiar silver coin glistening up at her.


	24. Chapter 24, Loras

_**A/N: In case there is any doubt, I'm not burned out on this and I haven't given up on it. Very, very sorry for the near-month-long delay in putting this chapter up. Between me being a slow-ass writer and my beta finishing up the semester in college it just ended up taking forever. I won't make any promises on the timeliness of the next update, but I will say that I'm VERY excited about the next few chapters. Hopefully I'll be able to write them more quickly than I did this one- and with less difficulty.**_

_**Now for ranting... I watched GoT last Sunday and, like almost every other Gendrya shipper, I died a little inside. To make it worse, I then went online and discovered the whole Gendry/Mel thing and that they were combining Gendry and Edric and... all of that information at once nearly caused an aneurysm. Don't hate me, but after incessant thinking and sleeplessness I almost hope they kill Gendry off after Edric's plot is finished. I don't know, I guess it depends on how the whole Gendry/Mel thing works out. Just the thought of them together nauseates me. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.**_

_**The silver lining is that these revelations have only fanned the fire in my gullet to finish this fic in a way I would like to see Arya and Gendry's story unfold. Also, I don't think it's unreasonable to hope that, in at least one format, tv or book series, we might see them end up together... if only for a little while. :'( My shipper heart may be dying, but what is dead may never die. Hope you enjoy the chapter!**_

It was not often that he sat in uncomfortable silence with anyone. As they waited on Lord Gendry, fashionably late it would seem, Arya had only given one or two word replies to his questions and attempts at starting conversation. Most people quickly took a liking to him. He couldn't figure out if she was rude, shy or angry with him; or perhaps some combination.

She was wearing an oversized brown tunic with breeches of the same color and boots that looked as if they might be older than her. Her hair was not messy, but she clearly hadn't worried over making it look nice. In a strange way, he could see why Gendry might find her interesting. She was not like most highborn girls or even most girls at all. She was almost like a younger, prettier version of Brienne, though infinitely less obtrusive.

He absent-mindedly thumbed through one of the many books Tyrion had left for Lord Gendry's education, growing ever wearier of her lack of communication and also unsure why that mattered to him at all. Finally, he decided to pry. "Are you upset with me, Lady Arya? Lord Gendry's lessons will likely not go smoothly if we can barely speak to one another."

She looked up at him, appearing almost surprised. "No." She shook her head. "My apologies, Ser Loras. I didn't sleep very well last night. And please, call me Arya. I do not care for titles."

She smiled and he returned it. "And you may call me Loras. You are obviously troubled. What worries you?"

"Nothing really." she said, looking away and biting her lip. She was a terrible liar.

"You're a lot like your sister in that way."

"Like my sister?" Her brow furrowed and Loras could tell by the way she spoke she was preparing to be offended. "In what way exactly?"

He closed the book in front of him and replied in a bored tone. "You couldn't lie if your life depended on it."

Arya laughed, adopting an air of confidence in her voice. "I assure you, my life _has _depended on it and I wouldn't be sitting here with you if I couldn't tell a convincing lie when I needed to."

"Given your history, I don't doubt it." he answered, still secretly doubting it. "Speaking of sisters, mine should be arriving on the morrow. She's very fond of Sansa and I imagine she'd take quite a liking to you as well."

"I am not my sister. If she expects me to be like Sansa she'll be sorely disappointed." She said with a grin.

"I very much doubt Margaery will be disappointed by that. If she dislikes anything about you it will most likely be your way of captivating Lord Gendry's attentions." He smirked.

"Why would she care about that?" Arya said quickly, raising an eyebrow.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the assortment of books before him. "She is desperate to find a husband. Once news of Lord Gendry's legitimization reached her she immediately set off to come here."

"Already? It has only been two days since the tourney. Who would have-"

"Your sister. She sent a raven immediately."

Throwing up her hands, she fumed. "What, has she decided she's the matchmaker of the Seven Kingdoms?" she asked, incredulous. "She conspires to marry me off to that pretentious sap Edric Dayne and now she's trying to set Gendry up with your sister. Is she so miserable in her own marriage that she means to make everyone else suffer as well?"

He couldn't help but smile at that. "I don't believe it is Sansa that is miserable in that marriage. But yes, she's definitely found something to busy herself with. I imagine life in the Eyrie bores her and now she's found something to fuss over."

Arya bit her lip, thinking. If he was being honest, it looked as if concentration required some effort on her part. _And she calls Gendry stupid, _he thought. She queried, "Margaery is afraid of losing her seat in Storm's End, I presume?"

"She is afraid of losing what little power she has left, yes. She was twice a queen already and then betrothed to Tommen before Daenerys put an end to his reign. If she doesn't marry Lord Gendry her next best option is probably your brother Rickon at the Twins, but she'd rather stay where she is if at all possible." He chuckled. "Additionally, it's convenient that she's already located where Her Grace is likely to seat Lord Gendry. One cannot argue that on paper it seems like a very smart match."

She eyed him. "Do you not want her to marry Gendry?"

Loras hesitated and chose his words carefully. "I'm not entirely certain Queen Daenerys has quite made up her mind just yet. The lands and holds of the Seven Kingdoms have seen many exchanges of power these past few years, Storm's End being no exception. There has been some dissent and unrest amongst its people, demanding a Baratheon and all that. Still, the good peasants of Storm's End don't entirely dislike Margaery despite her hasty marriage to King Joffrey so soon after Renly's death." Just speaking Renly's name still saddened him.

Arya stared at him quizzically. "Did it bother you when she married Renly?"

It seemed everyone in Westeros knew about he and Renly, and while at one time he may have attempted to be coy with such a question he no longer cared what anyone thought of him. He was not ashamed of loving Renly and would not deny it. "No. If he had to marry someone, I would rather it have been her than anyone else."

She nodded slightly. "Do you miss him?"

Somehow, he managed not to choke on the words, "Not a day passes that I don't." Taking a deep breath, he changed the subject. "Time is wasting. Would you happen to have seen Lord Gendry this morning?"

She shook her head. "No. I haven't seen him since yesterday. I went by his quarters last night before retiring and he wasn't there. This morning I didn't even bother." She bit her lip again, looking down once more and picking at one of her nails. "You and Renly were in love, were you not?"

He glanced around the room, not wanting to talk about it. His reply was soft and quiet. "Yes. Very much so."

A brief moment of silence passed before she spoke again, "Would you have hurt him if you'd known it might have saved his life?"

He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. "Arya, I'm not comfortable discussing this."

She queried immediately, her eyes pleading. "Would you?"

He grew angry. "What could I have done differently? Even had I been there in the tent with him when he died it is unlikely I could have fought off a shadow. And you ask if I would have _hurt _him to save him?"

She looked apologetic and softened her tone, "I only mean to ask if you would have hurt his heart in order to save his life."

He crossed his arms. "And how would I have done that?"

She looked back to her nails, defeated. "I'm sorry, it was a stupid question."

Upsetting him was clearly not her intent and he momentarily felt guilty. "I would have done anything at all to save him. I would have fought all of Stannis' army myself and died trying if that's what it took. And if I could, I'd go back and persuade him not to claim his right to the throne," He took a shaky breath to steady his emotions. "though I doubt he would have listened."

The door burst open and Gendry stumbled in with Tyrion behind him. The imp greeted them, his mood cheerful but his words sounding somewhat insincere, "Good morning Lady Arya, Ser Loras. I do apologize for our untimely arrival but Lord Gendry was in something of a mood last night so we went out into the city for a bit of fun." Gendry was pale and appeared exhausted as Tyrion led him to his seat.

"Are you drunk _again?"_ Arya asked him as he slumped into his chair.

"I was." Gendry wiped at his eyes with his good hand. Arya only stared at him, visibly upset and appalled.

Tryion beamed, "Nothing a flagon of wine the morning after didn't cure." He patted Gendry's shoulder. "Now, I hate to take my leave so soon after arriving but I fear I am late for a Small Council meeting. Ser Loras, I do thank you again for being so kind as to tutor Lord Gendry in my stead."

Loras frowned and replied flatly. "I wasn't aware the two of you had given me the choice." Queen Daenerys had inexplicably supported Tyrion's decision.

The imp shrugged. "I don't suppose we did. Now, get to it." He turned and exited.

Arya continued to stare at Gendry. There was a brief moment of silence before Arya broke it, chastising Gendry in a tone that reminded Loras of his mother. "So _that's _where you were last night, out drinking at some grimy tavern with Tyrion. You've got more of your father in you than you realize. You probably spent half the night-"

"Oh, _shut up,_ Arya!" Gendry slammed his hand on the table. "Where were _you _yesterday? I had to suffer through that meal with your sister and the rest of them by myself. I waited an hour for you to come down! And when you didn't, I checked your room and you were already gone. I figured you'd left without me for some mysterious reason of yours but they hadn't seen you."

"I was in the Godswood all day with Nymeria, not that it's any of your business." She rolled her eyes and huffed.

"Then why didn't you let anyone know? Everyone but your sister was expecting _you _to show up, not me. That was awkward enough in itself, but you should've heard the things Edric Dayne was saying to me. I almost killed him there at the table. If it hadn't been for Tyrion I probably would have."

Her expression was cross. "Then go get Tryion to fight every war of words you're too stupid to fight yourself. More than likely you'll find him in that tavern he favors." She seemed to calm if only slightly and added, "If I'd known that's where you were last evening I would have dragged you back to the Keep myself."

"We didn't go to a tavern." He sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile. "We went to a brothel." Arya glared at him without blinking and opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and turned away from him, her face like steel. Gendry appeared to be immediately regretting his revelation and began to entreat her, "Arya, don't be like that. You know I wouldn't... I didn't touch any of them! You can ask Ser Lady Brienne, Tyrion brought her along with us."

Loras wondered if most of their arguments went something like this. No, it was not uncommon for couples to argue- but Arya and Gendry weren't quite official. He and Renly fought rather often if truth be told, but their quarrels always ended with a gratifying release of... tension. As he observed them, it occurred to him that it was likely such animosity existed simply _because _of the nature of their relationship. That, and Lord Gendry's poor discretion.

Arya looked away towards the window and began lightly tapping her foot on the floor. "Arya, please. After we ate he asked if I wanted to go see King's Landing as I hadn't left the Keep since our arrival." He began to speak more fervently. "We went by Tobho Mott's and a couple other places and on the way back he said he wanted to stop by somewhere for a couple drinks and, gods, we must have been there for twelve hours but I promise you, Arya, I never touched any of them."

"But you looked, I'm sure." Her tone was emotionless.

Loras found Gendry's struggle to explain himself almost endearing as the young lord continued desperately. "Arya, they were everywhere! How could I _not _look? Tyrion was throwing dragons around like he was feeding morsels of bread to birds."

Loras thought to himself, _If this is what every lesson with Arya and Gendry will be like, the imp will be a head shorter in a fortnight. _

Gendry continued, "Ask Ser Lady Brienne, Arya. I never left her table."

She turned to him. "You were drinking for twelve hours and you never got up to make water?" His mouth opened and closed but no words came out. Skepticism was plain in her voice, "I wonder, what other bits of that story are lies?"

Gendry was becoming frustrated. "Don't be unreasonable! Of course I had to leave to make water but that was only for a few minutes at a time. Seven Hells, Arya, what would you have had me do? Remain sober while I watch two dozen whores climb all over your sister's husband like maggots on a corpse?"

"A very _little _corpse." Loras added dryly. They ignored him.

She looked at Gendry cruelly. "And did you enjoy that? Do halfmen quicken your pulse, or do you just like to watch?"

Gendry sighed and shook his head. "Edric can have you for all I care."

She started to respond but Loras interjected, "Good, then it's settled. Now, Lord Gendry, I'm given to understand that you aren't entirely illiterate. Would you mind giving me an idea of what you know?"

"Here, read this." Arya grabbed quill and a bit of parchment and began to hastily scribble something on it. When she finished, she neatly and precisely folded it and handed it to Gendry.

He took it with a look of suspicion and opened it, screwing his face up and staring intently. He sighed in exasperation. "I don't know, Arya. What does it say?"

She didn't look at him and instead spoke to Loras, facetiously repeating his words. "I don't know, Lord Gendry. Why don't you ask Ser Loras?"

Gendry handed the parchment to Loras. He read it and crumpled it up, speaking in a bored tone, "Essentially, she's telling you to go forge a sword and fornicate yourself with it."

Gendry looked over to Arya with a cross expression. "Would you like to me to forge you a heart while I'm at it?"

Loras was fed up. "Can the two of you save your flirtations for later? At this rate Lord Gendry will learn to read by the next winter."

Gendry seemed confused. "I thought the Citadel reported there weren't going to be anymore winters."

Arya shook her head, smiling and chiding him, "You are _so stupid."_

Loras was about to yell at them when a loud knock came at the door. "Enter!" he commanded perhaps a bit too harshly. He couldn't think of a time he'd been more happy to see Ser Lady Brienne as she towered in the doorway.

"Ser Loras, Her Grace requires your presence in the Small Council Chamber. Lady Arya and Lord Gendry, you are dismissed for the day." She seemed perturbed.

Loras stood immediately and crossed to the door without saying anything to Arya and Gendry. Brienne bid them good day and then closed the door behind them. As they began to descend the steps, he could hear the two of them shouting. "I cannot thank you enough for saving me from that."

"You may not thank me when you learn why I was sent to get you."

The entire way to the Small Council Chamber he inquired as to what was amiss but she would not tell him. As they neared their destination, he could hear shouts from Tyrion and Daenerys in the midst of a heated argument despite the doors being closed.

"What you're saying is suicide! This is not something that the people will just roll over and accept! You may be Queen and you may have dragons but you are still bound by laws like every other denizen of the realm! This is something you _cannot do!" _He had never heard Tyrion so upset.

"You do not tell me what I can and cannot do! I am Daenerys Stormborn, the Mother of-"

Tyrion had apparently run short on patience. "Yes, the Mother of Dragons, we know! But your head is capable of being separated from your body just like the rest of us!"

"_Your _head will be separated from your body if you interrupt me again!" Her fury was intimidating.

"Go ahead, we're _all_ going to lose our heads if you go through with this! This is _unheard of _in Westeros!"

"Then it will no longer be unheard of! The people _will _accept it." She did not sound entirely sure of herself.

"Ser Barristan, how can you approve of this? You of all people should understand that there are some things a king or queen cannot do!" The way in which he spoke indicated he was grasping at straws.

They stood outside the door waiting for an opportune moment to interrupt. He could hear murmurings from inside but could not discern what was being said. He gave a confused look to Brienne but she offered nothing in return.

Dany's voice carried once again. "Go! Be gone before I put your head on a spike!"

The door opened violently and Tyrion emerged, turning to yell back. "That's where it's going to end up anyway. Perhaps it will look better on a spike than it does on my shoulders." He walked away, wobbling as he went.

Varys came to the door. "Ah, Ser Loras, better late than never I suppose."

Loras ignored Varys' insult. "What was that about?"

The eunuch rubbed his hands. "Her Grace had a dream." For once he was not smirking. "But that is not why you have been called here. Please, come in."

He and Brienne took seats across from Danerys, Ser Barristan, Jaime and Varys. Dany was staring at the table, clearly flustered by her altercation with Tyrion. Jaime spoke first, sounding nearly bored. "We have something of a security issue."

"I've had reports from my birds that a man was seen changing his face in the city." Varys spoke softly, "While the presence of Faceless Men in King's Landing is not unheard of, this one was seen exiting the Red Keep."

"You mean to tell me the Gold Cloaks simply let him walk through the gate?" Loras asked.

"No. He was seen climbing down the wall." Varys stopped rubbing his hands. "He had a very thin blade with him, not unlike the one Lady Arya keeps in her quarters."

"You mean Needle?" Brienne inquired. "She had it with her when she joined us on our return here."

Varys nodded, "Yes, I do believe that is what the young lady calls it."

Loras asked, "Has she been notified?"

"No." Queen Daenerys looked up at him. "She must not know of his presence. I sent a handmaiden to look for the sword in her chamber and she could not locate it anywhere. While it is still possible that the blade the man was seen with was not Lady Arya's I see no reason to alarm her."

"No doubt we will know if she notices it is gone. Sansa tells me it was a gift to her from Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell." Jaime lightly tapped his gloved, golden hand on the table as he spoke. "No matter, Her Grace has made clear that Lady Arya's safety is paramount."

Daenerys cleared her throat, "Despite my previous intentions to move her and Lord Gendry into Maegor's Holdfast once our guests for the tourney took their leave, I have decided to keep them in the Tower of the Hand. Ser Jaime will be doubling the number of Gold Cloaks on patrol at all hours across the Keep and will be selecting two dozen of the finest to guard and occupy the Tower." She took a breath. "I have also ordered masons to begin barring all of the windows on the Tower. Lady Arya is not to leave it without express permission from myself, Ser Barristan, or Ser Jaime. And only then with an escort of Gold Cloaks and either one of you." She glanced between Loras and Brienne.

"She will feel you've taken her prisoner. Surely you cannot expect-"

Daenerys cut Brienne off, "I expect that she remains living. Ser Lady, you are aware of what is at stake. My dream _will _come true. The survival of House Targaryen depends upon it."


	25. Chapter 25, Daenerys

_**A/N: It's not like I haven't been working on this, because I have. I've just been very afraid to post this chapter for many, many reasons. (Oh, and it hasn't been beta'd as of yet... that too...) This chapter reveals two kinda sorta major plot elements, one being the details of Dany's dream and the other... the true object of Dany's affections. I guess there are still a few questions left unanswered (I hope so, at least). Anyway, the main reason it's taken me so long to update (aside from obvious GoT show feels) is that I've been afraid to take this story where I intended to take it all along... First of all, the dream seemed like a great idea in my head, but I had trouble writing it without it feeling kind of cheesy... and I definitely think it's still pretty cheesy. Also, there's what happens towards the end of the chapter... always intended for this, more or less, to happen, but I'm just not sure how it will be received (pretty sure a few people are gonna have a WTF moment... and not necessarily in a good way). So all that being said, if you don't like where this is going: unfollow, unfavorite, leave a scathing review and go read another fic. :P As I've never been shy to admit, this was/is my first fic, my first story, and it's been a learning process. I feel like my writing skills have definitely, at the least, gone from sucky to just plain bad since starting it. So whatever. I do HOPE that you like it (as I still very much like the story and where it's going or I wouldn't be writing it... lol).**_

_**I didn't intend to post it before being beta'd, but it's been over a month and... it's time. You're welcome, momoka93. :P Fire away!**_

_All was still and quiet in the golden, waning light of dusk. A warm breeze then whispered against her skin and the smell of fading summer filled her as she closed her eyes, breathing it in and allowing herself to sway with the gentle wind. She was on a high hill and all around her field and forest glowed in the twilight. And then, same as before, a distinct cry brought her eyes open._

_A dragon._

_Red and black terror, its large wings thundering as they flapped, the beautiful creature cried and spewed fire as it flew towards her. There was no mistaking the beast for her most fearsome child, Drogon. And there, on its back, a knight in black armor. As they approached, two more cries from behind her demanded her attention and she rounded to see two more dragons approaching._

_The beauty of Viserion and Rhaegal never failed to make her breath catch. On Viserion's back, his ivory scales golden in the evening sky, sat a knight in white armor. And riding Rhaegal, deep green with bronze markings, a knight donning emerald garb._

_The sound of their wings and cries grew louder as the three dragons approached and finally landed about her. She turned round, surveying each of them and their riders. Her children did not acknowledge her. The riders called out to one another, shouting, though she could not discern their words. It was a joyful union of the three and she could tell by the way her children gestured and crooned that they had been apart for some time._

_When she'd first dreamt this she hadn't known what to make of it. The vision came to her again and again in her sleep, never changing and never going away. Now, however, she knew what it meant. Looking to each of the riders, she was certain. House Targaryen was to be reborn unto the world, the martyr becoming the savior once again. She stared at the knight in black. That is me, she thought to herself, and the others are-_

_Like every time before, the sky suddenly blackened. All around them, the fields and trees withered and died. A chill like none she'd ever felt before, not even when she'd vanquished the Others, swept over everything. Her children screamed, breathing fire and taking flight once again. The earth seemed to tremble beneath her as they lifted off and flew back in the directions they'd come from._

_This, she did not understand. This, she'd not told to anyone. Until she knew what it meant, it would remain within her. All was bleak, dark and dead. She did not sense evil, and the death that surrounded her felt nothing less than natural. It was a small comfort._

_She heard the voice:_ There exists an ebb and flow to all things. What is summer without winter, order without chaos, peace without war, life without death?

_At once, a great blizzard surrounded her. She brought her arm up to shield her face from the winds, deafening and blinding._

_The voice continued:_ What is good and what is evil is irrelevant. All that matters is their existence. For after every summer there will come a fall, and after every winter a spring. There is no need for hope, as hope cannot change what is already set in motion. You are the Mother and your war is over.

_The winds died down and everything became still again. Around her, all was covered in snow and a soft light broke through the clouds, warming her. She marveled at her surroundings. It was so tranquil, silent except for the sound of her footsteps as she began to walk slowly towards a small something nestled in the snow two dozen paces away from her._

_The voice spoke for the last time:_ The Father will return to fight the coming war, and the Son will finish what he cannot. There is still another dragon, and another yet to come. The tears of the Wolves, the Stags, and the Lions will not be forgotten. Nor will yours.

_An infant's cries broke the silence and she ran now toward the object on the ground. Bundled in blankets and nestled in the snow was a newborn, tears running down its cheeks, reaching out for someone, anyone... _her_. She knelt down beside it and picked it up, holding it to her, and its tears ceased as hers began to flow._

_The clouds above dissipated and the snow melted beneath the healing sun. The grasses grew tall, the trees budded and leaved, flowers bloomed and the sound of life once again greeted her ears. She sat there on the hill, holding this child, and wept._

_Her tears would not be forgotten._

She awoke, sitting upright immediately and sobbing. There was so much she did not understand and so little that she did. It filled her with so many emotions that she often found it difficult to think about it at all. So much of what the voice said to her terrified her... and also comforted her.

Pushing the dream from her mind as she had dozens of times before, she wiped her eyes dry and got up from her bed. It was not yet evening and she was expecting company before much longer. She changed into a revealing white gown and quickly fixed her hair. She was excited for her guest and wanted to be beautiful. Satisfied with her appearance, she sat at her table and poured herself a cup of wine, drinking slowly and allowing her mind to wander as much as it would.

Before long her thoughts drifted to Arya and her reaction when she'd learned of her new living arrangements. It had broken Dany's heart to make her feel she was a prisoner, but she'd explained that it was for her own protection. To Dany's surprise, Arya had begun to protest but stopped herself, defeated, and simply gone along with it. And if she was being honest, Dany found herself disappointed in her. She'd expected Arya to respect her wishes, but her submission was unlike her.

A quiet knock came at her door. Her heart skipping lightly, she commanded, "Enter."

The door opened to reveal Brienne. "Your Grace," her words were matter-of-fact as always. "Lady Margaery Tyrell has come at your request."

Dany set her cup aside and stood, smoothing her dress. "Thank you, Brienne."

Brienne nodded, turning, and Margaery came through the door. Immaculately beautiful as ever, she smiled, "So good to see you, Your Grace. It has been far too long." She curtsied.

"Yes, it has." Dany crossed to Margaery and embraced her, closing her eyes as she breathed in the scents of rosewater and lavender. Releasing her, she brought a hand up to brush against Margaery's hair as she spoke, "I trust your journey here was pleasant?"

Margaery pouted, "It was unbearable, Your Grace. Knowing you waited for me once I arrived caused me such restlessness. I could hardly sleep."

Daenerys shushed her, "Why do you insist on being formal with me? I would hear you call me by name." Margaery nodded again. Dany admitted, "I have been restless as well. You are the dearest friend that I have in all of Westeros. Sometimes I wish that Storm's End was even closer so that I might see you more often."

"But then you might tire of me." Margaery drew away from her, grinning, and helped herself to the wine on the table. She poured herself a cup and sat opposite Dany's seat.

Dany followed her and sat down, picking up her own cup and taking a long drink before speaking. "That could never happen." She adopted a Dothraki accent, "It is known."

Margaery blushed and promptly changed the topic, "Loras saw me to my quarters. You spoil me, Dany. I am not accustomed to such extravagance, even under my father's doting eye back home."

"I find that difficult to believe." Dany took another sip and leaned forward on the table. "You are more beautiful than all the flowers in Highgarden."

"How could you know that? You've never been to Highgarden." Margaery reached a hand forward and placed it on Dany's. "And the beauty of our gardens is nothing compared to you." She gently squeezed Dany's hand and released it. "We should visit sometime so you can see for yourself. Loras and I can show you all of our favorite spots."

"That sounds wonderful. We will make arrangements very soon, I promise." Sighing, Dany brushed her hair off her shoulder. "I've been so caught up with everything recently. It will be nice to get away once matters of the crown are settled."

Margaery raised her eyebrows, "You mean Lord Gendry?"

Dany nodded and smiled widely, "Yes, among other things. And I cannot pretend to be naive. I'm told the reason you traveled here is to petition for his hand in marriage."

Margaery laughed at first and then frowned, "My brother told you as much, I presume. Dany, I can't tell you how much it meant to me when you granted me Storm's End. I love it there, and I only fear that-"

Dany shushed her, "You will not lose your seat, Margaery. I promise." Dany reached across the table and took Margaery's hands in hers. "I have not yet decided what to do with Lord Gendry, but you needn't ask it. If I place him in Storm's End I will see to it that your wedding is the most beautiful the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen."

Turning her hands so that her fingers entwined with Dany's, she looked near to tears. "Thank you, Your Grace."

"Don't start that again." Dany gently squeezed her hands before releasing them and reaching for her cup. "Have you yet happened across Lord Gendry?"

Margaery shook her head, "No. My brother tells me he's quite handsome, but he's always had a weak spot for Baratheon boys."

Dany admitted, "He's not wrong. If I had much of an interest in men anymore I'd probably be smitten as much as Loras."

"And Lady Arya rejects his advances?" Margaery's grin was infectious.

"That's what I'm told, yes, though I do believe she holds a great deal of affection for him." Her throat caught and she cleared it. Smiling, she continued, "It's nearly driven Sansa insane at the thought of her sister possibly marrying a bastard blacksmith."

"A bastard blacksmith no more." Margaery stared at her cup a moment, "It makes me wonder what Lady Arya has been through to be so... odd. Everyone thought her dead for years and now she returns a formally trained assassin. How does that happen to a highborn lady?"

Dany finished the contents of her cup, "War." She reached for the flagon and filled both their cups again, feeling light-headed. "When her father was executed, she left with a group of men and boys headed for the Night's Watch. That's when she met Lord Gendry." She took a drink, "It's really quite a long story and I won't bore you with the details, but along her journey she befriended a Faceless Man. He gave her a token so that she might gain passage to Braavos should she ever wish."

"That sounds exciting." Margaery's eyes glowed. "I do pity her, that she's lost so much, she and her sister both. I can't imagine what it's like. Even Sansa, Bran and Rickon were thought dead for a time." She looked down at the table and Dany could tell by her tone that she was being sincere.

Dany reached a hand to Margaery's again, "But the gods are not always so cruel."

"No. Not always." Margaery took Dany's hand and looked into her eyes. Dany smiled weakly. "I'm very thankful they've allowed me to see you again, Dany. There are times I wonder how truly safe I am in the Stormlands. And the whispers from Dorne-"

She spoke quietly, "They are only whispers."

Worry written on her features, Margaery almost stumbled over her words, "Do you not think it might be best for you to wed a Martell? Let Lord Gendry and Lady Arya wed and seat them somewhere, anywhere, Dragonstone perhaps."

"The Martells will never make an attempt on the Iron Throne." Being sure not to offput Margaery, Dany spoke firmly, reassuringly. "My counsel rarely mentions them at all. They do not have the wealth, the men... the strategy, even. And if they choose to rebel, I will crush them."

Margaery was not so easily convinced. "One can learn much from history, Dany. Not even Aegon could conquer them. Join your houses once more and the Seven Kingdoms will be yours."

"The Seven Kingdoms _are_ mine." She couldn't hide her fury. "And those who oppose me will be slaughtered. I am the last dragon." She rose from her seat and crossed to the hearth, looking into the flames. "The very last. Should House Targaryen die with me, it will be a song for the bards to sing until the end of time." Tears formed in her eyes, "Until the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Until the mountains blow in the wind like leaves."

"Dany..." she felt Margaery's hand on her shoulder and she turned to her. Margaery's voice quavered as she spoke, "I do not want to lose you."

Dany closed her eyes and pressed her lips to Margaery's head. "You will not. I promise." Dany put her arms around her and embraced her in a hug as Margaery began to sob. Dany could not fight her tears anymore than she could fight the fire that ran through her veins at Margaery's touch. She ran her hands along her back and pulled her closer, tighter. "I did not mean to upset you, my dear. I'm sorry."

Margaery, her cheeks wet, brought her head up to look Dany into the eyes. "I'm not." Margaery leaned her head forward and gently pressed her lips to Dany's. She returned the kiss, delicately as she could. "You are so much more to me than my queen, Dany. If my heart would break, I'd have it shattered for no other."

Dany stroked Margaery's hair and cupped her face as she kissed her again. Dany's hands traced down to Margaery's neck and slowly removed her dress from her shoulders. Margaery shook out of it and the dress fell to the floor. She was naked underneath, her ivory skin soft and supple. Dany led her to her featherbed and Margaery sat down as Dany slipped off her gown and sat next to her.

They embraced again, Margaery kissing gently down Dany's neck, and she laid back. Breathing in shallow, quick breaths, her hands ran up and down Margaery's body, finally resting on her head as Margaery kissed down to her breasts, then her stomach, and then lower. But as Margaery moved her head between Dany's thighs, it was Arya that she thought of, Arya that she envisioned there with her, pleasing her, loving her. All too quickly, she reached her climax and as she gripped the sheets, her body shaking, it was all she could do not to call out Arya's name.

_**...**_

_**A/N: So there you have it. Some things may and probably will change a bit once it's beta'd, but until then... well, the next chapter is Gendry's POV and now that this chapter is out of the way, I'm one step closer to throwing shit at the fan. XD Hope you liked it! *crosses fingers***_

_**Oh, and despite my dislike of them, I've started a Modern AU. Only two chapters in right now, but go give that a shot if you haven't. ;)**_


	26. Chapter 26, Gendry

_**A/N: Finally, another update. I'm very sorry it's taken me so long to write the last few chapters. Now, with this chapter, shit is at long last beginning to hit the fan and I'll be trying to advance the plot as much as possible with each chapter. I do have -sort of- a "Meerenese Knot" I'll have to work out later on (pretty sure i'm going to have to get to the knot before I can untie it) but I don't, at this time, see any other major issues with the order of events and such. I'll tentatively guess that this fic will end up being 45 chapters, give or take about five. I don't really know for sure as I only outline about four or five chapters ahead of the one I'm writing. So... we'll see. That all being said, if you're getting tired of this fic and are waiting for it to end... just cut your losses and give up now. :P Though I will say that things will (in my opinion) only be getting more interesting as the plot unfolds... Anyway, I hope this chapter is enjoyable! As always, a huge thank you to everyone reading! I trust you'll let me know what you think. XD**_

A sennight had passed since Arya last attended lessons and though Gendry knew he should let her have her space, he couldn't help himself. He'd been with her when Ser Barristan informed them of Queen Daenerys' orders and had seen the sadness plain on her face. It broke his heart to see her like that, to know what she must be feeling. Queen Daenerys had made him a prisoner of the Red Keep as much as she, though he still had leave of the Tower of the Hand whenever he desired and without escort.

When he'd checked her quarters and found her missing, it didn't surprise him. This not being the first time she'd simply vanished, he knew where to look for her. As he walked out into the godswood, he could hear the direwolf panting and growling before she and the beast came into view.

"Are you always so sullen?" She didn't turn her head to look at him as he came up behind her, the direwolf playfully wrestling with a stick she lazily grasped in her hand. She pulled it from the beast and threw it, Nymeria bounding off after it like a puppy.

He sat on the ground next to her. "Typically, yes. Learning about every highborn in Westeros proves exhausting, especially when there's only one I truly want to know."

She smiled, causing his heart to flutter. "Lady Margaery has been here a fortnight. Surely you've had ample time to get to know her. She's young, wealthy, funny, beautiful, intelligent, everything a lord should want in a lady, really." Playfully, she bumped her shoulder into his.

"But here I am, with you." He waited for a response as Nymeria brought the stick back. Arya grabbed at it but Nymeria ducked away, her tail wagging excitedly. "The godswood reminds you of your father, doesn't it?"

Arya sighed and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. "My father, my mother, Jon, Robb... but yes, my father mostly. He'd always go into the godswood to pray, or think, or whatever it was he did."

She bit her lip. Nymeria crept up to Gendry and dropped the stick in front of him, smiling if at all possible. He picked it up and threw it, the direwolf bounding off again. "Do you ever pray?" he asked.

She sat a moment, staring into nothing. Nymeria returned and sat before Arya with the stick in her mouth. She dropped it at her feet and whimpered. "No." she said finally. "If people spent half as much time _doing_ things instead of praying the world might look as if those prayers had been answered."

"Perhaps. But sometimes it's all we can do to pray." He studied her. "I do it almost every day."

She looked at him, genuinely wanting to know, "And to whom do you pray?"

He looked out to Nymeria, considering his response. "I don't know. Whoever's listening, I s'pose."

_"Suppose."_ she corrected him. "Are your prayers ever answered?"

"One was." He turned his head back to her and brought his hand, still healing but lightly bandaged now, up to her face and stroked her cheek gently with his thumb. She gave him a half-smile and scooted nearer, leaning into him and resting her head on his shoulder.

"Sansa will be taking Nymeria with her to the Vale." No trace of happiness existed in her words. "It will be better for her there. She's cooped up in the kennels all day here in King's Landing. She'll be happier." Arya sniffed, and he could tell she was wrestling tears. "With both her and Sansa gone you're the only friend I'll have left."

He whispered, "I'm not going anywhere."

"You'd better not." Arya took his hand in hers. Nymeria trotted over to them and laid down on the grass, resting her head on Arya's lap. She held Gendry's hand with her left and stroked the direwolf's head with the other.

Gendry asked, "Do you still plan on returning to Winterfell when the queen gives you leave?"

She sighed, "Yes, _if_ she ever gives me leave. But honestly, if she keeps me here much longer I may just run off."

"And leave me?" He didn't mean to sound hurt, but it came out that way.

She laughed, "Of course I'd take you with me. It's a long journey to Winterfell and I'd need entertainment."

He leaned his head onto hers, "Is that the only reason you'd take me? Entertainment?"

"Well, if I'm being honest I suppose it would be a bit scandalous for the two of us to run off together." She giggled like a child of two-and-ten. "I can just imagine the look on Sansa's face once she found out."

"And that wouldn't make the queen very happy, either. She still plans to marry me off, I suppose." He deliberately pronounced "suppose" correctly and couldn't help but hint at what he _really_ wanted to talk about, what he _always_ wanted to talk about with Arya.

"She can't force you to marry anyone you don't want to marry. You're Lord Gendry of House Baratheon, the patriarch of your family, the _last_ Baratheon." Her words did little to comfort him. "Well, the last _male_ Baratheon."

He furrowed his brow, "Does that mean I have to find a husband for Stannis' daughter? Shireen, that's her name, isn't it?"

"Well, you can _try_ to find her a husband. She's disfigured, Greyscale if I recall." She sat up, disturbing Nymeria. "But whoever marries her would be Lord of Dragonstone, and I'm sure you can find a noble or two who would be willing to overlook her appearance for a title like that."

Gendry thought to himself and then out loud. "I've never even met her and I'm expected to find her a husband."

Arya stood and brushed off her trousers, "Sansa's met her and says she's very kind. I'm sure she'll understand. By now she's heard of your legitimization and probably expects a raven or a visit from you at some point." She beckoned the direwolf, "Nymeria, come. Dusk is upon us. Let's get you back to the kennels."

Getting to his feet, he found himself feeling anxious to ask but clumsily blurted out the words before he could stop himself, "The Grand Maester said there's a meteor shower this evening. Would you like to watch it with me from the roof of the tower?"

She examined him with a curious grin. "That sounds rather romantic, Lord Gendry." she said in a teasing voice. "Are you planning to ask me for my hand yet again? You think you can butter me up and I'll say yes?"

Glancing down at his feet, he kicked the ground and lied, "No. I've given up." Avoiding looking her in the eyes, he turned his head up to the darkening sky. "Your sister tells me Margaery is waiting for me to ask for her hand, and I believe it. When I'm around her she's always finding some excuse to touch me. Either she trips and I'm compelled to catch her, or she remarks on my clothing and puts her hands on my chest and arms, sometimes she even runs her fingers through my hair saying how much it reminds her of Renly's." Now, he looked at her, his passive aggression clearly successful by the twinkle in her eyes and color of her cheeks. "I only wanted a friend to watch the stars with me, nothing more. I suppose if you're not feeling up to it I could ask Margaery..."

"Shut up." She smiled at him. "Go to your quarters. I'll come get you in an hour after I've gotten Nymeria back to the kennels and snuck back into the tower."

Arya turned around and began heading off to the kennels. He called out after her, "How _do_ you get in and out of the tower without alerting the guards, anyway?"

She shouted back at him over her shoulder, "A lady never reveals her secrets!"

"And since when are you a lady?" he called back, but she ignored him. He watched her walking for a moment before turning and heading back to the tower.

As he approached, he nodded to the two guards at the entrance. They acknowledged him, "Lord Gendry." and then parted, letting him in. The title still sounded foreign to him. Once inside, he hurried up the steps and to his quarters.

Giving another nod to the guard at his door, he went inside and immediately crossed to the bottle of perfume Loras had given him. Gendry had never even _worn_ perfume before, being under the impression it was only for women, but the Knight of Flowers had assured him the ladies would love it. Granted, there existed only one lady he truly cared to impress. The perfume had an earthy scent that he couldn't quite place and was anything but feminine. He put a few dabs on his wrists, neck and chest as Loras had instructed before checking himself in the mirror, making sure his tunic was straight and his hair neat.

He ran his hand across his face, feeling the stubble that had already grown in since he'd shaved that morning. _Perhaps she prefers me with facial hair._ Now in his twenties, it wasn't entirely common for a man his age to grow a beard. However, he now found himself in a position of some authority and a beard would make him appear older, less like the boy he still saw when he looked in the mirror. Her words rang through his head, _"You're Lord Gendry of House Baratheon, the patriarch of your family, the_ last _Baratheon."_ He shuddered at the thought. _The patriarch... all my life I've been nothing and now the fate of one of the most famous houses in Westeros rests on my shoulders._

He found it both terrifying and exciting, and most certainly ironic. Being a bastard was nothing to be proud of, but he'd come to accept that about himself early on. It had never particularly bothered him until he'd met Arya, and only then when the Brotherhood captured them and he had realized that their days together were numbered. He'd hated himself, hated society, hated the father he'd never met, even blamed his mother to an extent. He had no control over his birth, but it defined him as much as it did she and there would be no place for him in her life.

Now, however, his low birth was no longer an issue. _I'm_ Lord _Gendry and that's still not good enough for her._ He shook his head, suddenly dreading their time together on top of the tower. He would tell himself that he wanted her to be happy, and that was mostly true. Incidentally, he wanted her to be happy with _him_ and while she did seem to enjoy his company, he no longer represented what she wanted and couldn't have- he represented what she _could_ have but didn't want.

With a shake of his head and an exasperated sigh, he began gathering things. He pulled a blanket bearing House Targaryen's sigil from beneath his bed and rolled up in it two wineskins and two cups. Grabbing a satchel, he put in a wheel of cheese and a loaf of bread he'd liberated from the kitchens earlier in the day. It wasn't that he'd _planned_ on her saying yes, but he couldn't deny that he'd been hopeful and had made sure to be prepared for a positive answer.

"Gendry, are you ready?" Arya's voice came from behind him.

Startled, he dropped the satchel on the table and spun around. He'd been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn't even heard her open the door. "You're here already? It hasn't even been half an hour." As he looked at her, he noticed she'd changed her clothes. "You're... why are you wearing a dress?"

Arya frowned. "Is it really so shocking?"

He fumbled, "Well, no, it's-"

"I can go change into something more boyish if that's what you prefer." Her tone was harsh.

Gendry took a breath and looked her up and down. She was beautiful. A deep green with white lace at the cuffs and collar, the dress hugged her body and showed her womanly curves. "You look wonderful, Arya." She bit her lip and looked off to the side, spying the blanket rolled up on his bed.

"Are you ready, then?" she asked curtly. Picking up his satchel and the blanket, they exited his room and made their way up the stairs.

On the top floor, they passed by Ser Barristan's door and he called out from inside, "Lady Arya. A word?"

They stopped and she turned to peer inside. "Yes, my lord?" she answered.

He got up from his desk and crossed to them. "I'm aware you've been sneaking out of the tower without permission."

Arya shot a glare to Gendry and he shook his head. She replied, "I don't understand how you expect to keep a Faceless Man out of the tower if you can't keep one inside it. Should you expect me to-"

"Who said anything about a Faceless Man?" he queried. She did not respond. "My lady, if you wish to leave the tower, by all means, I will not stop you. But please, at the very least, make me aware of it."

She argued, "If my life was in danger I would be dead already."

"I know that," he smiled at her. "but others refuse to believe it." Turning and returning to his desk, he continued, "As I said, if you wish to leave I will trust your discretion. However, you will inform me first. That way, if Her Grace finds out about it I won't be forced to lie in order to protect you."

Arya nodded and asked, "Has she found out?"

"No." he answered. "But she has ears and eyes everywhere. It will only be a matter of time."

"Very well." Arya curtsied, a slight improvement from the night of the feast celebrating Ser Barristan's appointment as Hand of the Queen.

He added, "And do be careful on the roof. The masons have not yet finished it."

Gendry looked to Arya, confused at first, before realizing that someone must have overheard their conversation in the godswood. They bid him goodbye and made their way to the ladder leading to the roof. Once on top, he unrolled the blanket and spread it out while Arya grabbed one of the wineskins and took a long drink from it. When she finished, she noticed him watching her and she gestured to the other, "Nevermind the cups. You brought two skins."

He laughed and picked up the other, removing the cork and sitting down. "Would you like something to eat? I've got some bread and cheese."

"No, thank you." She sat down beside him. "I'll just have the wine for now, if that's alright."

"Whatever my lady wants." Gendry put the food aside and took a drink from the wineskin. He noticed her eyeing him curiously and he asked, "What?"

"I'll never get used to you talking like that." She shook her head.

"How do you mean?" he asked.

Arya reclined and sighed, "It's odd to hear you speaking proper." She quickly added, "Properly."

Gendry squinted at her, smiling. "Does it bother you?"

"Not really." She scooted down to lay beside him. "Yes." she conceded.

He scooted down as well, laying beside her. "If it please you, I can speak like I did when we were younger."

She was quiet for a moment. "No," she finally relented, "it's important for you to sound like a lord."

Looking up at the star-filled sky, he spotted a shooting star and pointed to it, "There, did you see that?" It was gone before he spoke.

"No." He felt her shake her head beside him.

He smiled, "My mother used to tell me that if you made a wish when you saw a shooting star it would come true."

She turned her head to look at him, "And do you believe that?"

"It wouldn't matter much if I did." He looked back at her. "You're the only thing I'd ever wish for."

Arya blinked and a grin slowly appeared on her face. She elbowed him in the ribs. "You're a liar."

Gendry laughed, "It's true." He thought a moment, "Well, _mostly_ true."

She raised an eyebrow. "Mostly?"

"I suppose a kiss wouldn't be out of the question." He returned her grin.

Arya looked back up to the stars and sighed. "I'm sure Lady Margaery can help you with that."

If she was going to bring up Margaery again, he figured he might as well have some fun with it. "Who says she hasn't?" Arya's smile immediately dissipated and she glared at him. "What?" He asked, laughing.

Her eyes darted back up to the sky and she pointed, "There's one."

"And what will my lady wish for?" He emphasized 'my lady.'

She crossed her arms again, "Well, Lord Gendry, if I tell you then it won't come true."

"Are you sure of that?" he asked.

"Quite sure." She smirked. "You'll just have to wonder."

Gendry tapped her nose with a finger. "I think I know what you wished for."

She laughed skeptically, "I doubt it." And with that, he began to tickle her. Laughing through her words, she tried to sound imposing, "Stop, Gendry. I said _stop!"_ Arya grabbed at his hands, trying to push them away. "Gods, Gendry, I don't want to hurt you!"

He shifted his weight so he was leaning over her and whispered into her ear, "I'd like to see m'lady try."

With dexterity he should've expected, she slid out from beneath him and flipped him onto his back, sitting on top of him and holding his arms down at the sides of his head. "Do _not_ call me m'lady."

He smiled, "As m'lady com-" She leaned down and kissed him, cutting him off, and almost immediately sat back up. He was surprised, but judging by her expression not nearly as much as she. He half panted, "Well, that was unladylike." She let go of his hands and grabbed his tunic, pulling him up to her and kissing him again. He sat up on his own now and embraced her, putting one arm around her waist, pulling her tightly to him, and holding the back of her head with his other hand.

She kissed him passionately, her tongue snaking around his, and she put her arms about his neck. Breaking the kiss much too soon for Gendry's liking, she leaned her forehead against his as they caught their breath. She looked directly into his eyes. He whispered, "Is that what you wished for?"

Before she could respond a voice got their attention. "I'm very sorry to interrupt but Ser Barristan wishes to speak with you, Lady Arya." Gendry looked over to see Ser Loras, still on the ladder, his head and chest all that was visible. "It's urgent."

For a moment Gendry felt panicked at being discovered with Arya in his lap like this, but judging by Loras' tone he didn't seem concerned. Arya asked, "What is it?"

Loras spoke calmly and quietly, "Ser Barristan wishes to speak with you himself."

Arya demanded, "Just tell me, Ser Loras."

Loras sighed and hung his head before looking up at them again. "A raven came from the Twins about your brother, Rickon." Loras grimaced. "He's dead."


	27. Chapter 27, Brienne

_**A/N: Apparently, I'm breaking my recent trend of posting, maybe, once a month by posting a new chapter just a little over twenty four hours since posting the last one. This absolutely does not mean that I'll be posting more frequently from here on out as I just started school and... I should be doing school work... but I tried to outline the rest of the fic last night and got up through chapter 47 before deciding to leave it at that for now. After 47 is the climax of the story which will be between one and three chapters depending on how I want to tell it, followed by the final chapter and then the epilogue. So... that means (assuming I don't stray from the outline... which totally happens) this fic will end up being 50-52 chapters long. Thus, I decided to get as much of a start on it as I could. This chapter is short and while I considered adding other stuff to it, none of what I considered really did much to advance the plot so... this is just pure plot advancement, despite its brevity. Thanks so much to all of you are sticking with me and I really hope you continue to like the direction I'm taking this! Your comments are so very kind! You guys are awesome! XD**_

It was not often that Brienne's presence was requested at Small Council meetings, but in light of Rickon's sudden death Dany had insisted she attend. "Your Grace," Ser Barristan spoke gently, "I simply do not see any reason to believe the Faceless Men were behind Rickon Stark's death. The rumors suggest it may have been a coup carried out by Frey loyalists."

"And what would they be hoping to accomplish?" Dany made no effort to hide her disbelief. "Any attack on a noble I've appointed is also an attack on the crown. Few would be so foolish, and almost certainly not what remains of House Frey."

"I'm compelled to agree with you, Your Grace," Tyrion leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he spoke, "but an attack on a Stark may be just that. It may have nothing to do with ill feelings toward the crown at all. Rickon was young and I'm given to understand he mainly heeded the advice of his advisors. It's entirely possible that-"

Jaime interrupted his brother. "Are you implying that our relatives haven't been doing everything in their power to keep the peace at the Twins?"

Tyrion glared at Jaime. "I'm implying that our relatives may have upset the people in their attempts to keep the Queen's peace. Is it unthinkable that the Stark boy could've taken the fall for that? Additionally, we don't yet know all the details of what happened."

"The boy's throat was cut in his sleep." Dany's voice trembled with emotion. "He'd only just celebrated his eleventh nameday. You mean to tell me that dissidents could have blamed _him_ for their problems?"

"Yes, Your Grace." Tyrion's expression was somber but stern. "It's cruel and unfair, but the people do not always correctly assign blame for their woes. When I was Master of Coin under King Joffrey's reign, the people-"

"You were not an eleven year old boy!" Dany shouted.

Tyrion continued calmly, "I'm only saying that he may have been viewed by the people as the catalyst of their problems. They were never particularly thrilled about having such a young boy for their lord."

"That's no reason to kill him." Brienne spoke for the first time.

"True," Tyrion admitted, "but children have been killed for less, nevermind lords or even kings."

Jaime eyed his brother, "You truly believe that this was carried out by smallfolk?"

Tyrion nodded. "I'd believe that before I believed the Faceless Men were behind it, yes. Do _you_ truly believe it was the work of the Faceless Men?"

"No." Jaime reclined in his chair. "I don't know who may have done it or why, but that doesn't seem likely. Why would anyone pay that amount of gold to eliminate a young lord like Rickon Stark?"

Tyrion shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps they couldn't find a window."

Jaime opened his mouth to respond but Dany stopped him. "That is enough. The matter won't be settled at this time." She looked to Brienne, "Ser Lady, is Lady Sansa still preparing to leave for the Twins?"

"Yes, Your Grace. She and her caravan will transport Lord Rickon's remains back to Winterfell to be interred. Lady Arya plans to go with her."

"No, absolutely not." Dany was expressionless.

Tyrion looked dumbstruck, "I beg your pardon, Your Grace?"

"In the event that the Faceless Men are responsible, it is much too dangerous for both of the Stark women to be traveling. Lady Arya will stay here until I give her leave."

"Your Grace, I understand your concern, truly, I do," Varys rubbed his powdered hands furiously, "but your Small Council is in agreement. There is no reason to believe Lady Arya _or_ Lady Sansa's lives are in any danger whatsoever."

Dany sat upright in her seat. "And my Small Council will do as I command. Ser Lady, would you please go to Lady Arya and inform her that she will remain here?"

Brienne groaned inwardly and stood. "Yes, Your Grace."

Dismissed, she turned and exited the room. Brienne didn't often question the queen's judgment and rarely voiced her concerns unless prompted to, but this was an occasion where she wholeheartedly disagreed with the mother of dragons. If anyone in all of Westeros stood much of a chance against an assailant, much less a Faceless Man, she felt it was Lady Arya. While Brienne didn't know who might have killed Rickon or why, it seemed to make more sense to keep Lady Sansa in King's Landing if Queen Daenerys was truly worried about anyone's safety.

Regardless of her trepidations, she ultimately trusted her queen's judgment and would obey her every command. If Her Grace commanded her to end her affair with Jaime, she would do it. If she commanded her to fall on her sword, she would do that as well. Whatever the cost to her, she would keep her honor.

She was somber the entire way to Lady Arya's quarters in the Tower of the Hand. Firmly, she knocked on the door. "Enter!" she heard Lady Arya's voice from inside. Arya's back was turned to her and she spoke fervently, "Sansa, I told you to give me at least an hour to have everything together. I can't find Nee-"

"Lady Arya, it is only me." Brienne spoke softly and Arya turned around quickly, looking surprised. Brienne took a breath and carried out her order, "I'm very sorry to tell you, my lady, but Her Grace will not allow you to leave with your sister."

Arya looked horrified. _"What?"_ And now, she looked outraged. "My brother has been killed and I'm not allowed to go see him?" Her lip trembled. "Did she say that? Did she tell you that herself?"

Brienne remained stoic. "Yes."

Arya timidly sat on her bed. Her voice quavered, "The last time I saw him he was only three years old. I just barely remember what he looked like, what he sounded like." She dropped her gaze to the floor. "Could you deliver a message from me to the queen?"

Brienne was not fond of messenger duties, especially when the messages weren't what the recipients wanted to hear. Though she expected the worst, she agreed to it. "Of course, my lady."

Arya looked back up to her. "Please tell her that I'd like to know what I've done to deserve being made a prisoner and that I would like a trial by combat."

Brienne smiled weakly at her, "You haven't done anything, my lady. She only means to protect you."

"And what about protecting my sister? What about Bran?" Brienne didn't disagree with her. "My last brother is a cripple and Sansa couldn't wield a sword any more than I could make straight stitches. I am more capable of protecting myself than the both of them combined. Why is my safety so important?"

Now, Brienne frowned. "You'd have to ask her that yourself. I do not know."

Arya chewed her lip and then stood. "And what if I leave anyway?"

Brienne took another deep breath. "I imagine Her Grace would send someone to retrieve you."

"How exactly would they do that?" Arya cocked her head. "Does the queen think she could take me by force?"

"I'd hope it wouldn't come to that. Most likely, she'd send me or Ser Loras." Brienne crossed to Arya and put a hand on her shoulder. "Her Grace surely cannot keep you here forever. Please, do as Her Grace bids you. If you do not, it will only make things harder on you and those you care for."

Arya stared at her a moment and then slowly nodded. "Very well, ser lady." She turned. "Now, if you don't mind I have to find something of mine. I seem to have misplaced it."

Brienne bowed and turned to leave when a thought struck her mind. _Arya's blade, Needle... the man was seen leaving the Red Keep with it._ "Would you like for me to help you look for it, my lady?"

Arya shook her head, looking around the room in thought. "No, that's fine, thank you."

Brienne bowed again and exited, wasting no time in getting to Jaime's quarters. When she arrived, she knocked rapidly on his door. "Ser Jaime?"

He opened the door and smiled. "Brienne, shouldn't you be relieving Loras?" She pushed him inside and he said in surprise, "Well, I suppose I could overlook this depending on what you're-"

"Be quiet." She abruptly shut the door behind her. "What were Varys' exact words about the way in which Rickon Stark was killed?"

Jaime furrowed his brow. "Brienne, need I explain to you again what 'foreplay' is?"

_"What were his words?"_ she demanded.

He rubbed his forehead with his left hand and sighed, "I don't recall exactly what he said. Why?"

"His throat was cut, yes? He was found in his bed?" Jaime nodded, blinking. "Were there any more specific details about the wound?"

He looked confused. "What are you getting at, Brienne? Why are you asking this now?"

She knew Jaime well and was aware she wouldn't get anywhere demanding answers without an explanation. "Do you remember Varys' report on the man seen leaving the Red Keep with Lady Arya's blade?"

He shook his head, "Yes, but we don't know for sure that it was hers. Her handmaidens couldn't find it, but perhaps she only hid it well."

"I just came from her chamber." Habitually, she put her hand on the hilt of her sword. "She was looking for it and said she'd misplaced it."

"What does this have to do with Rickon Stark's death?" He leaned back on his table. "You think the assailant used her blade?"

"I don't know." She to the floor and then back to Jaime. "It's possible. That's why I'm asking about the wound."

Jaime squinted. "According to Varys, the maester said the cut was very deep." He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. "And that it was made with a very thin blade."

Brienne looked at him. "A deep cut with a thin blade. A long, thin sword would make a very deep cut."

"Or a very _sharp_ dagger." He gave her a nearly pitying look. "Brienne, the boy's throat was cut. That's all we're like to know. I can see what you're getting at, but I feel you're jumping to conclusions."

"It makes sense." she asserted.

"No," he argued, "it doesn't. You're saying a Faceless Man stole Arya Stark's little toy sword and killed her brother with it."

"Yes, and if-"

"There's one problem with that, Brienne." He held up a finger. "One of many, really, but this is the first that comes to mind." Jaime's tendency to be condescending never failed to infuriate her. "Faceless Men are trained to make the deaths of their victims look like accidents. That's common knowledge. We discussed this just before you arrived at the meeting today. If a Faceless Man was indeed commissioned to kill Rickon Stark, the petitioner needs their gold back."

Brienne held back her anger. "We should tell the queen."

Jaime turned and began pouring himself a cup of wine. "We will tell no one, Brienne." He turned back around and took a drink. "Now, unless there's something..." he smirked, _"else_ you came here for, I suggest you go to your post."

She stared at him a moment, wanting to hit him, and then left.


	28. Chapter 28, Arya

_**A/N: This is another one of those chapters where I'm afraid of people's reactions. :S Anyway, about the part about two thirds through it... um... I did my best without making it shamelessly... -that- ...lol. So, I tried. :) Please, please, please leave reviews and let me know what you think! Thanks as always for reading, and I REALLY hope you like this chapter (as much as possible, that is)!**_

_**Also, the lyrics in italics belong to GRRM as every freaking person that reads this that has also read the books will know... lol.**_

Arya sat looking out her barred window across the godswood, her thoughts with Nymeria and Sansa. Even though they'd left a fortnight past, it felt as if their tearful departure happened only yesterday. In the time since receiving the news of Rickon's death she'd largely confined herself to her room, only leaving to raid the kitchens and occasionally attend Gendry's lessons. A sennight past, Ser Loras informed her that Queen Daenerys wished to speak with her. "If she wishes to speak to me, she can come herself." she'd told him. He'd only given her an understanding frown and left.

She found it somewhat peculiar how is attitude towards her had changed recently. Now, during Gendry's lessons, he was almost friendly with her and she suspected that perhaps those she'd come to know in the Red Keep pitied her. She found that thought infuriating. Arya didn't want or need pity from anyone, especially not the queen's lackeys. It was Ser Lady Brienne, however, that angered her the most. In many ways, she and the knight were kindred spirits. Both were the antithesis of what a lady was expected to be, both strong and independent, but Brienne encouraged her to be passive and do whatever it was her superiors desired.

That was where Arya and the she-knight differed the most: Arya desired her freedom. And freedom, it would seem, was not fit for a lady regardless of her social standing. Arya was a prisoner of the queen and Brienne was a prisoner of her vows to that queen. She scoffed at the idea that she once desired to be a knight, raising from her seat and walking to the window. She placed her hands on the bars and leaned her head between them, breathing in the fresh air and listening to the birds singing songs to one another.

"Arya? Are you in here?" she heard Gendry's voice behind her and the door creaking open.

Without turning to look at him, she asked, "Do think it wise to enter a lady's quarters without knocking?"

"I beg your pardons. The door was slightly ajar and I," he sighed, "I only wanted to make sure you were alright. I worry sometimes."

She took a breath and stepped back from the window, returning to her seat. "I am probably the last person in King's Landing you need worry about." She beckoned him with her hand, "Come, sit." He shut the door and crossed to the seat adjacent to hers, sitting while she poured them both a cup of wine. "I'm very impressed by how much you've learned from your lessons. I originally thought that Ser Loras wouldn't make a very good teacher, but he's proven me wrong."

"Loras has a way of making it entertaining." He took a sip from his cup. "He's got a unique way of looking at things. When he talks about the histories of the houses, he makes half their decisions and actions sound ridiculous and somehow it helps me remember it all. Now that I'm reading fairly well, he's shown me how to make memorization easier. For instance, there's a funny phrase he taught me to help remember all the houses in The Reach. The first letter or two of each word are the first of one of the houses."

Arya grinned. "That's called a mnemonic device. _I_ could have taught you that."

He laughed, "Well, then you should come to my lessons more often." He looked at his cup and rubbed his thumb along the side of it. "I miss you when you don't come."

She bit her lip. They hadn't yet spoken of what transpired on the roof of the tower. She thought of it every day, wondering if he did too, but with Rickon's death and her continued imprisonment still fresh on her mind she hadn't found herself able to bring it up. "I'm sorry, Gendry. Some days it's difficult for me to find the courage to leave my quarters."

"No, it's fine. I understand." He looked her up and down with a caring expression. "Has your brother's death been difficult for you?" He shook his head, "I'm sorry, that was a stupid question."

"It's not a stupid question." She looked back out her window. "It breaks my heart to say it, but I barely knew him. I still cared for him, of course, but it wasn't like losing Father, Jon, Robb," she reached for her cup, "or even my mum." Staring into it, she did her best to ignore her feelings of guilt and then took a drink.

"I knew your mother, you know." She looked up to him, his eyes gentle. "Or rather, Lady Stoneheart."

"She wasn't my mother." Arya took another drink. "I didn't know for sure that you'd ever met her but I assumed it was possible, what with you being a part of the Brotherhood for so many years."

"I only saw her a handful of times." He paused and then continued, "She didn't like me very much so I stayed clear of her when it was possible. Thoros of Myr said it was because I reminded her of King Robert."

Arya half smiled, "Is that what first made you suspect? That you were his son?"

He nodded, "That, and a few of the brothers who'd met the king calling me 'Bob the Bull' every now and then."

She laughed, "Bob the Bull? Truly?"

"Yes," he laughed with her, "I hated that nickname."

She teased, "At least I now know what to come back with the next time you call me 'm'lady.'"

He feigned being offended, "Would m'lady be so cruel?" She shot him a threatening look but he only held his pouty expression. She tried to suppress it, but a wide grin eventually broke out on her face. He began to smile himself, "What's wrong, m'lady? Have I said something to offend you?"

"Shut up, _Bob."_ They both chuckled at that.

He became more serious and asked, "Do you think it's true what they're now saying about Rickon's death? That it was a coup carried out by Frey loyalists?"

She reclined in her seat and sighed, "I don't know. I suppose it's possible."

Gendry sat forward in his seat, putting both hands on his cup. "Ser Loras tells me that Ser Lady Brienne thinks it was the work of a Faceless Man."

"Does she?" Arya brought her eyes to his with interest. "And what makes her think so?"

"He didn't go into details." Gendry screwed up his face in thought. "Do you think it could be true?"

Arya stared blankly at her cup. "I don't know."

He asked, "Why would anyone want Rickon dead?"

"Let's talk about something else, shall we?" She forced a smile.

Gendry persisted, "Is it possible this might be retaliation for you leaving them?"

She sighed, "Gendry..."

"You were sent to kill me." He reclined again, "Won't they be sending someone else to finish the job?"

She snapped at him, "I've been back all this time and that thought just now crosses your mind?" Arya looked him directly in his eyes. "I was given your name for a reason, Gendry. I could sense it when they told me." She softened her tone. "I wanted to prove them wrong, that I was ready. So, when they asked if I knew you I said that I didn't."

He studied her. "And they believed you?"

"Probably not." She took a drink and then continued, "But they let me go anyway. I don't know what would've happened if I'd finished the job."

"You almost did." Gendry looked somber but then smiled. "It's a shame your direwolf isn't here to protect me anymore."

Arya gave him a wry smile. "She didn't do it for you."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "Then why did she do it?"

Arya looked about her, suddenly flustered. "I don't know. Perhaps she-"

"Perhaps she knew how you feel about me?" He stared at her intensely.

"Gendry," she searched for the words, "we hadn't seen each other in years. Why would-"

He cut her off again, "You never forgot me."

She bit her lip. "No, I never forgot you."

"And she knew what that might do to you. She knew what it would mean if you killed me." Slowly, he reached out his hand and took hers. "It would've meant the Arya she loved, the Arya that loved others, was gone."

She felt tears beginning to form in her eyes. Suddenly, she became angry, drawing her hand from underneath his and shouting at him. "It would've meant that I didn't have to hurt anymore!" Her chest heaved with emotion. "In two years, I lost everything and everyone I ever cared about." They began spilling onto her cheeks. "All I wanted was for the hurt to go away! I didn't want to _be_ Arya anymore! I lost everything, Gendry. _Everything."_ She wiped at her eyes, looking away from him, and whispered, "Even you."

Gendry's voice cracked, "Arya, I told you. I only joined the Brotherhood because I thought it might..." He shook his head. "Being a knight was better than being a bastard blacksmith's apprentice. I only ever wanted to be worthy of you. That's the _only_ reason I did it."

"That's not the only reason, Gendry." Her lip quivered. "You knew that I would be returning to my family and you knew what that meant. The Brotherhood gave you a chance to be something more." He dropped his eyes. "You knew it was only a matter of time before I was back in a castle, a princess, and that you would have no place in my life." She sniffed. "So don't insult both of us by lying to me and saying that was the _only_ reason you did it. You were just doing what was best for you."

He looked back up at her, his eyes watering. "Then why do you still hold it against me?"

It was true, she knew. When everyone else was gone, when everyone else had left her, she'd never thought for a moment that Gendry would leave as well. She was young and naive, and it had hurt her beyond words. She still remembered her thoughts, _he means to leave me too._ She got up and crossed back to the window. The sun was setting and the tops of trees were golden and green in the light of dusk. Behind her, she heard him get up and walk over to her.

Arya felt his hands slide around her waist, embracing her, and he leaned his head down beside hers, whispering into her ear, "I'll never leave you again."

She put her hands on his and gripped them, lowering her head and crying again. Stupid, stupid tears. Slowly, he turned her around. He brought a hand up to her face, wiping his thumb across her cheek, and put the other beneath her chin, bringing her gaze up to his. She could see he was crying as well. He leaned down and gently kissed her, his lips soft and supple against hers. She kissed him back, pulling him nearer, wanting to feel him next to her.

Gendry pulled his head back, his hand still on her cheek, and smiled. Arya whispered, "Kiss me again." He hesitated briefly before leaning down again, his mouth opening against hers and his tongue brushing her lips. She opened her lips and tasted him, warm and wet. In one effortless motion, she put her arms around his neck and he picked her up, carrying her over to her bed and setting her down. She grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled him on top of her, sinking into the feathers beneath his weight.

Still kissing him, Arya began untying the front of his tunic. Once loosened, she grabbed the bottom of it and began pulling it up. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and reached down, pulling it over his head and exposing his abdomen. Lightly, she touched his shoulder, tracing her fingers down his chest to his stomach and feeling his muscles tense beneath her fingertips. She looked into his eyes, almost scared, and found he looked as if he felt the same.

His hands trembling, he reached out and carefully slid her dress from her shoulders, exposing her breasts. She instinctively brought her arms up to cover them, but seeing the look in his eyes she let her hands fall to her sides, allowing him to take her in. Timidly, she stood and let the dress fall to her feet, Gendry taking her hand while she stepped out of it and her shoes, totally exposed. She sat back down on the bed and lay back. Gendry moved over her, his eyes roaming her body as he touched her, first her face and then her side, before tracing his thumb over her nipple. She shuddered.

Gendry leaned over her and kissed her deeply, one hand tracing down her side to her thigh while the other caressed her breast. She began to moan, gripping the back of his head and squeezing the sheet beneath her. She moved her hands down to his waist, blindly untying the fastening of his trousers as he kicked off his shoes. He broke the kiss again and stood, dropping his trousers to the floor. Arya blinked at his manhood, springing free and erect. Looking up at his face, she found him blushing and she smiled.

He got back onto the bed, positioning himself above her and lowering himself onto her, kissing her passionately. She gripped his back as he slowly entered her and she winced in pain. He let out a gasp, searching her eyes for permission. She nodded and he began to gently rock back and forth, the pain lessening each time and being replaced with pleasure. Before long, she grabbed his buttocks, pulling him deeper inside of her with each stroke, his body hot against hers, his tongue exploring her mouth and his hands leaving fire everywhere they touched.

He moaned and she felt him climax. The sensation was like nothing she'd ever felt, holding him as he breathed shaky breaths, and she felt her body beginning to convulse as waves of ecstasy washed over her. She looked deeply into his eyes, lost in the wilderness of blue, and he held her, stroking her hair and smiling. He moved from on top of her and pulled her close, his arms wrapping tightly around her. She allowed herself to curl into him as he rested his head against hers.

He quietly sang into her ear as he traced his fingers up and down her side, _"My featherbed is deep and soft and there I'll lay you down. I'll dress you all in yellow silk and on your head a crown. I'll always keep you warm and safe and guard you with my sword. And you shall be my lady love and I will be your lord."_ She didn't know how long they lay there, their skin feeling as one and his warmth surrounding her, but eventually she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, feeling whole for the first time since she could remember.

_Her ears pricked up as she raised her nose, searching again for the fleeting scent. She looked about her, the darkness covering everything, and listened. There was nothing. She stood, crossing over to the bed where the girl lay, sleeping soundly, and sniffed again. The girl murmured and turned over._

_Turning back around, she continued sniffing, still searching for the foreign scent. Whatever it had been, it was gone now... but it had smelled like man. Alert but now calming, she walked back to her spot on the floor and circled twice before settling down again, resting her head between her paws._

_And then, she heard it. She raised her head again. It was quiet, but distinct. A small clinking sound had come from the back. Silently, she rose and crept towards it, smelling again for the strange scent. She searched but found nothing. Refusing to give up just yet, she continued examining the area when she heard a muffled cry from behind her._

_Turning around with lightning speed, she saw the source of the smell. A man held the girl, one hand covering her mouth and the other holding a blade to her throat. She growled, the hair on her back standing up straight as she lowered herself to strike, baring her teeth. The man only smiled and laughed as the girl's eyes widened with fear, her cries muffled. The man spoke something but she couldn't understand it. She took a step forward, letting out a ferocious snarl._

_The man laughed again and drug the blade across the girl's throat. She made a gurgling sound as her eyes turned into the back of her head and a river of red began to pour from her neck. She charged, throwing all of her weight at the man as she leapt at him and tackled him to the ground. On top of him now, he smiled still as he looked up at her, his hands gripping something in front of her face. He turned them and she tasted blood in her mouth, a mixture of human blood and her own. She tried to growl but found she couldn't. The man began to stab her in the side as he twisted the blade in her mouth._

_Her body growing limp, she collapsed on top of him with a whimper as he shoved her off of him. He removed the blade from her mouth and she began to choke, numb to the pain, blind to everything but the girl's hollow eyes staring blankly at her from a few paces away. Again, the man spoke but she still couldn't understand him. The room grew darker, and darker, and darker._

Arya screamed.


	29. Chapter 29, Daenerys

**_A/N: This chapter was very frustrating for me to write. I just couldn't get the dialogue to play out the way I wanted it to and I'm probably more dissatisfied with this chapter than any other piece of fan fiction I've ever written. Anyway, I finally just gave up and finished it out, only putting in the stuff that really needed to be said. It's very short and mostly uneventful (even a "big reveal" is kind of just like... "well, here it is") but it had to happen so I can write the next chapter which I'll be starting on immediately. I'm very sorry this chapter sucks, but things will get more interesting starting with the next chapter. I'll try to finish it tonight!_**

Dany neatly folded the small bit of parchment and placed it on the table in front of her. She looked up at Brienne, dreading what she had to do. She quietly said, "Bring her here." Brienne nodded and turned, exiting without a word. Dany then looked to Varys and asked, "Is there no word on how the Faceless Man got past her guards?"

Varys shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not, Your Grace. This was the first I'd heard of it and I came directly to you." He reached out his hand and rested it on her arm. "Whatever the motive behind this, it does not change what must be done. If anything, it's a good sign that Lady Arya herself has not yet been killed."

"She will blame me for this, I assure you. And if by some miracle she remains here..." her voice trailed off.

Varys cleared his throat. "She already believes that her sister is dead and she is still here. What will this news change?"

Dany snapped at him. "Do you honestly believe that she'll sit idly by knowing her last living sibling's life is probably in danger? And what if he is slain as well? With all of her family dead, what reasons will she have to stay?"

"There is only one reason she ever stayed in the first place, Your Grace." She lowered her eyes and felt him gently squeeze her arm. "Do not fret. You've said yourself that your dreams always come true. Why would you begin to doubt them now?"

Dany reached for her cup, finding it empty. Always observant, Varys reached for her pitcher and filled her cup. "This will not be easy."

"No," Varys agreed, "but it is what's best for the realm. You _must_ have an heir and this is the surest way to avoid another war like that of the Five Kings. She will stay, Your Grace, and you can share your plans with her once this storm is passed."

She nodded quickly. "Thank you, Lord Varys. Your confidence is reassuring." She forced a smile. "You may leave now." Varys stood and bowed before crossing to the door, his feet like feathers across the stone.

Now by herself, Dany stared into her cup, deep in thought. She wondered how long it would take for Lady Arya to arrive. She'd summoned Arya to her chambers once before, but she'd refused to come. Dany had been tempted to force her, but ultimately thought the better of it. Given Arya's dream and her assertion that it was real, she felt confident the young she-wolf would come this time. After all, there could only be so many reasons a queen would summon someone to their chamber at a late hour such as this.

Dany took a long drink of the Dornish red and savored the taste before swallowing it down. Her thoughts drifted to what Varys had said, _"There is only one reason she ever stayed here in the first place, Your Grace."_ As much as she wished to deny it, she knew that it was true. She'd heard stories of the youngest Stark girl long before she ever laid eyes on her. With a reputation like that of a wildling, Arya had been likened to her aunt, Lyanna Stark, who she'd been told was the Usurper's obsession.

Sometimes when she lay awake at night, she would envision what her life might be like if the Usurper had simply given up on the woman that did not return his love. Likely, her father and both of her brothers would still be living. She would not be the very last Targaryen. _The very last,_ now that she had retaken what was hers by right, she found her thoughts often drifted to this frightening truth. _I cannot have children of my own. If I am to ensure House Targaryen's survival, I must do this._ _Even if the Targaryen line continues only in name, it will be with the blood of my choosing. It will be-_

"Your Grace?" Dany jerked her head up to see Lady Arya standing in the doorway alone. She was wearing a white nightgown with silver embroidery around the plunging neckline and loose, baggy sleeves that hung down past her knees. "You wanted to see me?"

Dany did her best to smile. "Yes, my lady." She beckoned her, "Come, sit." Arya drifted silently over to her almost like a ghost, her skin pale, her hair mussed and her eyes slightly bloodshot. Dany took a deep breath and began, "Lady Arya, I am very sorry to bother you at this late hour."

"She's dead, isn't she?" Arya's voice was flat and her face portrayed no emotion. "Sansa and Nymeria both." Dany let her pained smile fall from her features and slowly nodded. "Will that be all, Your Grace?"

She felt a mixture of hurt and anger. Reminding herself how much Arya had lost, she continued calmly, "No, my lady. I need to know why your brother and sister have been killed."

Arya eyed her warily. "You think that I know why?"

"I think that you know more than you're willing to admit, yes." Dany poured her a cup of wine.

"As do you." Arya looked her directly in her eyes. "I've been told that you suspect it was a Faceless Man that killed Rickon."

Dany moved the filled cup before Arya and admitted, "Yes, I do. I also believe a Faceless Man is responsible for your sister's death. Will you tell me that I'm wrong?"

Arya chewed her lip before replying. "I knew him by the name Jaqen H'ghar. However, it is unlikely he still goes by that name. It's also possible, even probable, that the face he wore wasn't his."

Dany nodded again. "And why would he be killing your family?"

Arya took a drink. "The House of Black and White would have me return."

"Have you known this all along?"

"No." Arya shook her head. "I assumed I was given Gendry's name because they knew I'd never forget my old life. When Jaqen infiltrated the Red Keep, he came to me in my chamber and told me that my life would not be pleasant if I didn't return." She looked down at the floor. "I didn't know what he meant by that."

Dany watched her for a time before gently offering, "I am so sorry, Arya. I have already sent word of warning to your brother in Winterfell."

"Warning isn't enough." Arya looked back up at her with a harsh gaze. "You must allow me to go to him."

Dany sat forward and continued cautiously, knowing Arya wouldn't like what she was about to say. "I will send two dozen men to Winterfell with orders of protecting Lord Stark, but I cannot-"

"Why would you keep me here," Arya huffed and added mockingly, "Your Grace? What purpose does my presence in King's Landing serve?"

Dany flatly told her, "I am marrying you and Lord Gendry."

Arya looked as if she found that answer ridiculous. "And you think that I can't marry Lord Gendry and go to protect my brother? Gendry would come with me. Wherever you plan on seating him, it can wait for-"

Dany cut her off, _"I_ am marrying _you and_ Lord Gendry." Arya's expression did not change. "Your safety is paramount."

Arya spat, "Are you as mad as your father? Do you really think I'd go along with that? Do you think _Gendry_ would go along with that?"

"Yes, I've dreamt it." Arya's lip quivered and Dany continued before she could say anything. She told her of her dream and the three dragons with three riders. "I cannot have children of my own, Lady Arya. When I first had the dream I wasn't sure what it meant, but after seeing you and Lord Gendry fight in the Hand's tourney, I was sure of it. He will be my king, you will be my queen, and the two of you will sire a child to inherit the Seven Kingdoms."

Arya seemed overwhelmed and scoffed, "You truly believe that's what your dream means?"

"Yes. My dreams always come true."

Arya stood. "Will that be all, Your Grace? May I take my leave?"

Dany quietly replied, "You may." Arya immediately turned for the door. Dany called after her, "Arya?" She stopped but didn't turn to look at her. "You will be a queen for the songs." Arya stood still for a moment and then quickly left.


	30. Chapter 30, Gendry

_**A/N: Another short chapter. Boo. Just read it slowly. :P With school, it's much harder to find time to work on my fics. As always, don't worry- I'm not abandoning them. Writing this chapter gave me a headache and though I feel that it's... rushed and whatnot, I just couldn't keep tweaking it and adding to it. So, here it is. With this chapter, I'm now about three fifths (chapter-wise) of the way through this story. There will probably be many more short chapters to come... it is what it is. So... enough excuses and complaints, I hope you enjoy it!**_

Gendry was in disbelief, feeling cold and more afraid than ever. This was not what he wanted, and he was sure that it was not what Arya wanted either. He hadn't seen her all day, but Queen Daenerys mentioned that she'd already informed her and he imagined that was quite possibly why. Checking Arya's quarters and finding her absent, he immediately made for the godswood, knowing that was where she would be.

It was a starless, black night and he shivered as he walked toward the treeline. He didn't know where in the godswood she might be, but he knew that she would make her presence known if she so desired. His head still swimming from the wine he'd drunk during his audience with the queen, he sat down at the heart tree and waited, listening for the sounds of animals and bugs but hearing none. It was silent.

What felt like an hour passed and Gendry began to wonder if Arya truly was in the godswood. He called out, softly at first, "Arya? Are you here?" He waited for an answer but heard none. "Arya!" he called again, but he heard no response. Letting the back of his head fall against the tree with a thunk, he looked up amongst the branches and saw her peering down at him.

"Hello." she quietly spoke.

Twisting his neck to see her better, he asked, "Have you been up there this whole time?" In the dark, he could make out her head nodding slightly. "Why?"

She sounded sad, "I've just been watching you." Putting a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, she began to climb down. Reaching the lowest branch, she jumped and landed lightly on her feet beside him, seating herself and resting her head on his shoulder. He took her hand in his and leaned his head onto hers. "Did she tell you?" she asked.

"Yes." he whispered. "I'm so sorry about Sansa and Nymeria." Gendry gently squeeze her hand. "And she told me about her plans for us as well." Arya said nothing. They sat for a long time, alone in the dark and silence.

"I'm leaving, Gendry." He'd almost fallen asleep but the words struck him like a hammer.

He raised his head and turned to look at her, unsure if he'd heard correctly. "What?"

She looked into his eyes, emotionless. "I'm leaving."

Gendry blinked. "Where are you going?" He felt the slightest hint of panic course through him. "And when will you be back?"

Arya took a shaky breath and stood, stepping away from him. "I'm leaving tonight for Braavos." She slowly turned to look at him, her expression almost frightened. She whispered, "I'm not coming back."

He held her gaze for a time before standing, his mind made up. "Then I'm coming with you."

"No." She shook her head. "You can't. I was sent here to kill you. If you come back with me, they'll do what I couldn't."

His heart raced and he felt out of breath. Incredulous, he asked, "Why, Arya? Why go back to them?"

"Because I have to."

Gendry waited for her to say more, but she didn't. He walked up to her and put his hands on her cheeks. He didn't understand. "No, you don't, Arya. You're safe here, they can't-"

_"You're_ not safe, Gendry." She gently pulled down his hands and stepped away. "Neither is Bran. Jaqen won't stop until I've returned."

"So let's leave and find him. And _kill_ him."

Arya hung her head. "They'll just send someone else, Gendry. The only way to-"

"No!" he shouted at her. His eyes began to warm and a tear ran down his face. He tried to quell his emotions and calmly spoke, "You're not leaving me again." She turned back to him and he could see the sadness in her eyes. He choked out, "I won't let you."

Arya stood, motionless, and then sniffed, wiping at her eyes and looking away from him. She spoke softly, "I'm sorry, Gendry."

"No," he croaked, shaking his head vigorously, "it doesn't have to be this way. This isn't what you want, Arya."

"What I _want?"_ she was crying now, and she shouted. "What I want is to see Bran and Rickon running and playing together again! I want to fall asleep listening to Sansa sing one of her songs and feel my mother tugging at my hair as she braids it. I want to wrestle with Jon and see him smile at me again, throw myself into my father's arms and hear him tell me that everything's going to be alright." She closed her eyes and sobbed, "I want to go _home,_ Gendry. I want to be happy." She opened them and looked directly at him. "And I want _you_ to be happy."

His face wet and cool, he took a step towards her. "Arya..."

"What I want doesn't matter anymore, Gendry. I can't have any of that, but I can have one thing that I want." She wiped at her eyes.

He quietly asked, "And what is that?"

"I want you and Bran to be alive."

He felt his fury rising within him. He balled his fists. "Why would you even bother telling me this? Why not just leave?" He turned away from her and grasped at his hair in frustration. "It would've been easier that way, if you'd just disappeared." He cried softly, "Just like you did the last time."

"Gendry…" her voice cracked.

"You're like a dream, you know. I'd been happy being no one, a lowborn bastard, and I probably wouldn't have hated my life if I've ever made it to the Wall all those years ago." He turned back around to look at her. "But then I met you and you made me want to be something more. I wanted to be worthy of you. I wanted to be someone that could look you in the eye, someone that could be in your life as something more than just a servant. I wanted to be your friend," he stepped closer to her, "and I wanted to be someone that could hold your hand, kiss you and tell you how much you mean to me." He took a shaky breath as reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "And like a dream, it's as if I'm waking up to find that it's all too good to be true. It doesn't matter that I'm a lord, or even if I was a king. I'm waking up to find that I was never good enough to dream it to begin with."

She whispered, "That's not true."

He nodded as he spoke, "It _is_ true. You're just a dream." He let his hand fall from her face and stepped back, turning away. "And like the dream left me before so long ago, it's leaving me again now just as I was starting to believe it might be something more." He shook his head. "Why come here and tell me this, Arya? Why not just leave like you did before? Why wait for me, knowing I would come, just to make me suffer having to say goodbye?"

He barely heard her, "Because I love you."

Gendry closed his eyes and wrestled the tears that strained to escape them. She'd never said it before. He'd felt that it was true, but he'd never _heard_ her say it. Feeling suddenly weak, he sat down on the ground, his back to her. He heard her come up behind him and she put her hand on his shoulder.

Her voice was clear, "Marry Queen Daenerys, Gendry."

He shook his head again. "I don't want to be a king."

"That's why you'll be a good one." She got down on her knees beside him and put an arm around his side, resting her head on his shoulder. "You'll have a good life. The people love you already, and they'll love you even more when they come to know your heart. It's for the best." He said nothing. She held him as he cried, and he eventually leaned his head against hers, relishing the feeling of having her next to him, knowing this dream would soon be ending. After a time, she whispered into his ear, "Goodbye, Gendry."

He felt her pull away from him and lifted his head to look at her. He wanted to say goodbye to her, but couldn't. The words refused to come. His heart wouldn't let him. She stood, waiting, but when he said nothing she turned and left. He watched as she disappeared into the darkness.


End file.
